#once I TOLD YOU that I was losing my mind

[kitimeq]

ੈ✩‧₊˚we can’t be friends 🤍 xavier 星回 ੈ✩‧₊˚

RE-UPLOAD! The original post didn’t show up in the tags, sorry for the confusion :c

pairing ੈ✩: xavier x reader

summary ੈ✩: you and xavier had been best friends for years, nearly inseparable since the moment you met. But after one slightly drunken night, everything shifted: you became friends with benefits. You told yourself you could handle it, but as time went on, your heart began to ache. You had to end it, for your own sake. You were in love with him, but you couldn't shake the painful truth: you believed he’d never feel the same. Still, what if, all this time, while you were trying to push him away, he was quietly hoping to show you how perfect you two were together?

word count ੈ✩: 12k. omg. it’s LONG, long. grab some snacks and let me entertain you for a while!!

tropes ੈ✩: 18+, smut, best friends with benefits, miscommunication, unrequired love, not really tho, angst, angst with happy ending, plot with porn, love confessions, needy xavier, obsessed xavier, domestic xavier, i suck at giving tropes i swear i will get better someday, desperate xavier, everything is consensual, the consumption of alcohol mentioned, pet names, xavier was once in love with mc but the myths are not canon in this one!!

author’s note ੈ✩: GUYS this one’s IT. This idea was blooming slowly in my mind for quite some time. I really hope you’ll like it 🥹 also, please be gentle with me, i’m not a native speaker of english and I’m definitely not a writer. I like to think that everything i create is just fueled by my passionate delulu. please let me know if you liked it and if maybe you’d like to read part 2!! ♡ enjoy your reading!!

!!do NOT read if you’re not 18+!!

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It all started with the simplest of touches.

Your hands grazed, as if by accident. Then your eyes met. He grabbed you by your forearm, or maybe you grabbed him, everything was so blurry in your mind. A touch on a waist, a hand on a chest, and a sudden clash of your lips. You saw fireworks exploding in your mind, sending pleasant thrumming throughout your whole body.

Desperate touches. Rapid breaths. A whisper, maybe two. He said something. What did he say? The sound of your heart was the only thing you could hear.

Your dress came off. You felt lips. Lips marking every part of your body, leaving behind wet paths that made the exposed skin shiver due to the coolness of the air. He went down. Down. Down, and looked at you expectantly. Your head never nodded that quickly and it probably never will again. You saw stars. Millions and millions of them, shimmering under your closed eyelids. He grabbed your hand and put it into his hair. You caressed it gently, savoring the softness of it.

Then, you saw his eyes. Beautiful, deep blues that looked far too innocent for what he did and what he was about to do with you next. He kissed you again and again, and again, and he held you close throughout the whole night, making you shiver, moan, cry, beg — until you fell asleep from exhaustion right in the safety of his arms. He turned your world upside down.

And then came the next morning, when you began to question the entire ordeal. You panicked, thinking about your friendship that you valued the most and Xavier, whom you just couldn’t bear to lose. However, when you wanted to put it past you, to blame the alcohol consumed that night, act as if it was just a slip of your judgement, a mistake, a reaction caused by the need of intimacy after being single for a long time, he wasn’t having it. He said that he couldn’t forget about it, that it changed things, and you blurted out the first thing that came into your mind. You proposed the whole arrangement.

And that’s how, after several months, your relationship with Xavier stayed clear and technically uncomplicated. Friends with benefits. You thought that even if that night did change things, then in this way you could act as if it wasn’t a big deal to you. In this way, you wouldn’t have to lose him, wouldn’t make things awkward. You still acted normally in front of each other, you continued to spend time in almost the same way you were before that faithful night, but with one drastic change.

Almost every encounter since that night ended with you in his bed or the other way around. Hours and hours spend in each other’s embrace, touching and feeling too much, all at once.

And said feelings were what made you finally decide that you couldn’t do this anymore. You couldn’t continue sharing with him this intimacy, pretending that everything between you remained unchanged. You couldn’t do this anymore, knowing that it was all that you’ll ever get from him, despite being in love with him for so long.

You knew that he would never reciprocate your feelings. You knew that from the beginning, from the very first touch of your fingertips that night, but you foolishly thought that having him close for as long as he wanted you, would be enough for you. Even if he wanted you only for your body, because you were the easiest choice.

However, your heart was breaking every time you were reminded of one significant fact, a harsh reality that felt like a bucket of cold water in your face.

He will never love you. Because you were not her.

And you would never be.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

You already had a strategy to end the arrangement. You wanted to take it slow, step by step, with just a bit of pain on your side. You knew it wasn't your best plan, but it was a plan nonetheless. You wanted to end the friends-with-benefits arrangement in a way that would make you both slowly, almost naturally, drift apart—so subtly that he wouldn't even notice the change. As for you, you were ready to bear the painful consequences of your actions, if it saved you from the excruciating pain of a broken heart later.

You started with avoiding his kisses.

And it turned out to be a tough job to do, because you didn’t realize before how much of a kisser Xavier became during your friends-with-benefits situation. It never really bothered you before, you always accepted every single kiss with content. However, during your last meeting, you were trying so hard to avoid his lips, and noticed that he made it into an almost impossible task.

When you went out one night, he wanted to kiss you three times during hot pot, even though you were sitting across from each other. You thought that the sitting situation was enough of an obstacle, but you quickly learned that he always somehow managed to find a chance to try to steal a kiss. That not only bewildered you, but also made you blush so hard that you had to blame the spicy food for it to not look suspicious. Yet, you managed to stay your ground and ignored his needy attempts at capturing your lips.

You also avoided his lips while you were later watching a movie in his apartment, by pretending that you didn’t see or feel his constant gaze on you. You thought that maybe if he saw that the movie engaged you so much, he would finally drop the attempts. Unfortunately, your plan failed the moment his patience thinned, when he started kissing your neck while cradling your body to his. He was grabbing at you almost desperately and you really couldn’t escape from every single kiss he was giving you, no matter how much you tried to. And you really tried to.

“Why—why are you turning your face away? A-Ah… Let me look at y-you—mmm.” He said between his moans, and he never once stopped thrusting inside you. It was the day when he took you on a sofa between his soft, plushy pillows with the movie still playing in the background. Your legs were laying on his shoulder, his both hands holding onto them tightly while his hips thrusted deep inside you, making you gasp in pleasure. When you didn’t respond and kept your head away, hoping that he would finally stop with his relentless kisses, his hand gently grabbed your face and turned it towards his so that your eyes met. He smiled softly, his cheeks pink and face damp. “Yes, there you are. You feel good? You wanna break?” He almost slurred and you adored how quickly he was loosing himself with you, how much he was loosing his composure. When you squeezed your eyes, moaning at a harder thrust and shook your head no, he whimpered. Next thing you knew, he lowered your legs onto the sofa and layed between them, bringing his body closer to yours. Your chests touched and you could feel his rapid heartbeat, mirroring the rhythm of your own. He nudged your head, which was still turned to the side, with his nose.

“Give me a kiss, c’mon, starlight.” He kissed your cheek, slowing down his thrusts to a lazy, delicate ones. “I couldn’t get a kiss all day, I need it. Let me.” And when you saw his eyes, full of desperation and something that reminded you of adoration, you couldn’t keep denying him. Your lips touched his and he didn’t let go of them until you came, and later when he began growling straight into your mouth, chasing his own undoing.

It was the last time you met up, and after that you decided that you had to cut it off completely. You couldn’t continue being with him like this, not when you knew that he already loved someone else. Being with him this close messed with your head. You didn’t want to feel like a convenient second choice and you couldn’t help but feel that your meetings were slowly becoming more and more intimate. You had to constantly remind yourself that you weren’t together. You made sure to label the change in your relationship properly at the start of the arrangement — still on friendly terms, with occasional mutual pleasure. But the close proximity and constant intimacy started to make the lines blurry in your mind.

And your heart couldn’t take it anymore, it hurt every time you reminded yourself that he didn’t reciprocate your feelings, and that he never will.

After that movie night you decided that the next step to your goal would be to stop engaging in small talk with him, especially the one that occurred at work.

You worked together at the Hunter’s Association, he was one of the best Hunters out there, and you specialized in weapon modification from the safety of your own desk. You wanted to be a hunter once, but with your Evol involving micromodification you guessed that you could be needed in a position that involved working with weaponry. After working there for years, you were passionate about your work and elated to have a job you loved and where you thrived while helping others to the best of your abilities.

Thus, because of the shared place of employment, you saw Xavier almost every day. He was often near your desk, passing by it, putting snacks before you or teasing you with that soft smile of his. So cutting the contact out there was one of the toughest jobs for you, but it had to be done.

When you knew that he would be free, you found a task that needed completion in other departments, so that you will not cross paths. Often, instead of others coming to you to fix their weapons, you proposed to make the trip instead. In this way you were always quick on your feet, going from department to department, back to the workshop and again to the others’ desks. You didn’t mind the extra activity, it made you think less about your breaking heart.

And when Xavier managed to catch you from time to time, because he always somehow would, you were trying to appear too busy even for a small conversation.

“Where are you rushing off to again? I didn’t manage to talk to you these past few days.” He said one day when he caught you by your elbow while you were going out of the bathroom. He must’ve seen you go in there and wait for you to come out. He brought you a little closer to himself and looked at your face so intently, that you got scared he could see right through you.

“Sorry Xai, I’m just really busy lately.” You answered, maybe too quickly, and were trying to calm your beating heart upon seeing him so close again. Too close. It didn’t help that he was in his hunter’s uniform, that made him look twice as dreamy. You were so close that you could also smell his comforting scent and see the small scar on his cheek that he got last year after you two tried ice skating for the first time.

The first and the last, for it appeared that you were much better at it than he would ever be, and you wanted to avoid him getting hurt again. It was also before your friends-with-benefits situation, when your friendship was pure and healthy. Your heart squeezed remembering how he grabbed your hand then, and how tightly he used to hold it throughout the whole activity.

“Xavier, are you sure you don’t want to go back home already? I’m afraid that your cut will scar if we leave it like that.” You said, looking at the bandaid on his cheek, the only remedy for his small injury that you could provide at that time.

He squeezed your hand and still appeared sheepish after his fall. You secretly found him adorable, you never saw him doing something in which he didn’t excel in. It was as if he let you see a part of himself that no one had ever seen before. That thought made your chest warmer.

“No. I won’t let the ice defeat me.” He said surely and you knew that he won’t give up, even if his legs already visibly trembled from exhaustion. You let out a sigh. “Besides, you’re holding my hand now, so I feel much safer.” He looked at you, his voice soft and cheeks red, most likely from the cold air. Seeing him in such a vulnerable state made you completely overcome by the feeling of tenderness, and you send him a huge smile, thinking that it was the first time he relied on your protection, and not the other way around.

Little did you know that this smile would catch him by surprise so much that he slipped backwards, this time pulling you down with him. However, your reflexes slightly worked, because you managed to put your hand behind his head, shielding it from the impact with ice. You landed on him with a groan as his hands moved to pull your body closer.

“Oh god, Xai, are you okay? How did that happen?” You asked him, trying to lift yourself off of him. You felt him relax his head further into your hand, and when you raised yourself enough to face him directly, he sent you a wide smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. This sight made your heart melt.

“See, I knew you would protect me.” He replied, clearly referring to your hand behind his head. “My little savior.” He called you, and when you puffed the air out, annoyed that he could have hurt himself for real this time, his smile turned into a full laugh, his body shaking under yours. He looked so angelic, covered in snow, laughing in a way that was so scarce that you couldn’t help but join him in his moment of happiness.

And thanks to your mittens, your hand was left with only a purple bruise from the impact. Still, Xavier couldn’t let you forget about it up to the day it disappeared completely, expressing guilt for the minor injury, his sight chasing your hand every time it appeared in his line of vision. He often caressed it softly with his fingers, looking at it with a mysteriously thoughtful expression, whispering “My little savior.” under his breath. It made you wish that the bruise would never disappear.

You took a step back, suddenly overwhelmed by the memories and the closeness between you. He always invaded your personal space, stood so close that you could almost feel his breath on your face. This time, you had had to cut it out for your own good.

“S’okay. You’re always busy but I guess I just got used to meeting you near your desk. Just text me after work? Maybe we could meet up for our book club today.” He said and you swallowed the awful feeling of longing in your chest. Book club was the term you came up with when you both just wanted to sit and read together for hours. Unfortunately, you knew how book club sessions looked like since the beginning of your friends-with-benefits arrangement.

You were sitting together in silence, reading for hours, then talked about your books until you both lost your breaths. A wonderful experience, you adored your little reading sessions, but you knew that recently they always ended with his lips on yours, and with your clothes scattered around his bedroom.

You couldn’t let this go on forever. You couldn’t go back to being just friends now, and you couldn’t keep him so close, knowing that he will never fully be yours. You pitied your poor heart.

“Sure, will do. See you around!” You were aware how awkward you sounded, but before he could stop you, you were already off to your another task of the day.

You didn’t text him after work, and neither did you reply to his message in time. The next day you send him an excuse that you were tired and fell asleep quickly, and you hoped that he believed it or didn’t care enough to question you further.

If the distance hurt you this bad now, you couldn’t even imagine how would it feel when he eventually would’ve left you for her.

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The next stage of your plan involved not answering his texts at all. You allowed yourself small replies from time to time, most often very brief, if the situation called for it. Replying excuses from left to right. Then, you incorporated not picking up his calls, especially on weekends, when he appeared to want to see you the most, because you were absent from the Association building and he couldn’t catch even a glimpse of you.

The distance you yourself put between you broke your heart, and you were getting more and more depressed by the day. Ignoring the person you loved wasn’t easy, when he was the one with whom you wanted to spend your time the most.

To distract yourself from the situation, you were trying to pass your time differently. You were meeting up with your family and friends, or you started doing things that you were putting off for ages. Everything and anything to fill the void in your heart caused by the absence of the one you loved. The absence forced by you.

It had to be done, you reminded yourself daily. You had to end this somehow, no matter how it hurt you. You had to move on. You couldn’t still be in love with him the day he would end up with MC. You knew it would ruin you.

Three weeks passed since your last meeting at the Association and you could feel that Xavier was getting impatient. His calls were more frequent. His messages longer. Sometimes while running away from him at work you could catch how he was scanning the room in search of you. How frustrated he seemed to be. How upset.

You understood it. You were best friends after all, and he also probably needed someone near him to help him get his head clear of MC. You knew that it must’ve been hard for him. But you were sure you were doing the right thing, that’s why you kept avoiding him during the past month, and not only it was the longest period you’ve been away from each other since the start of your complicated arrangement, but also the longest time since the start of your friendship. Even when the times were rough, you managed to see each other at least once or twice a week.

You felt the pain of the distance too. Missing him almost every second of the day. But you had your reasons. You didn’t want to try to satiate the hunger he felt for another woman anymore.

So every time his name appeared on your phone screen, along with the picture of him shoving two muffins into his mouth at the same time, you closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and waited out the signal, simultaneously praying for and dreading the silence.

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On a quiet rainy day, after a month of ignoring almost every attempt to make contact from Xavier, you heard your phone ping thrice. You sighed and put the book you were reading down, deciding that it was a good moment to reply something short to him in order to slightly ease his worries, and make him feel less alarmed. You wanted distance, but you still sticked to responding from time to time, to appear casual. To let the connection break off less abruptly.

xavier: why cant I see U at all recently.

xavier: why are U not picking up my calls and not replying to my texts.

xavier: are U hiding from me?

you: Of course not, just busy.

xavier: busy for me but not busy for others I know U are going out all the time.

xavier: are U mad at me? did I do something wrong.

you: No, you didn’t, don’t worry. It’s just me. I have a lot of things on my mind recently.

xavier: could U please have me on Ur mind too? I miss U.

xavier: so bad it hurts

You let out a rugged breath, and decided to stop responding, but then another text came. This time, making your blood run cold.

xavier: going back from a rough mission right now i think i need help.

you: Oh my god, are you okay? Are you injured?

xavier: cant tell U why dont you come and see me for Urself.

you: Fine, I need to see if you’re okay. Do you need anything? Food? Medicine? I will pick something up on my way there.

xavier: i just need U

You closed your eyes and hid your face in your palms, then swore it would be the last time. You will go in, treat his wounds and go out. It had to be the last time you allowed yourself to be this close to him, and then you had to cut him off completely. A month wasn’t enough to heal your broken heart, and these small sightings won’t make your heart feel any less burdened.

It had to end today.

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When the door opened, he managed to take your breath away once more.

First, only figuratively. His beauty always managed to amaze you. He looked so handsome no matter the circumstances, his hair so fluffy and shiny, his face like that of an angel, with sharp jawline and soft, pink lips almost screaming at you to be kissed. When you met his eyes, you almost gasped at the intensity of his deep blue gaze. There wasn’t a thing about him you didn’t miss terribly after so much time apart.

Then, literally, when the first thing he did was grabbing your hand and hugging you tightly to his chest, that was still clothed in his hunter uniform. He pressed his face into the crown of your hair and touched the nape of your neck, holding it gently with his cold hand.

“Was the mission that difficult?” You asked, thinking that his reaction to you was mostly due to his need for someone else’s closeness. The need for security. “Were you in danger?” You asked quietly, fear bubbling in your mind.

“No. I lied.” He murmured and you felt him squeezing you even harder, inhaling your scent with content. His hand started stroking your back, slowly making its way under your thin coat. “Didn’t know what else to say to make you come see me.” He said and you hoped that he couldn’t hear, nor feel the sound of your erratic heartbeat.

He shouldn’t say things like these, it made you feel too hopeful. You tried to push that feeling down, knowing that’s how he normally acted with you, his best friend. You knew that he didn’t have a lot of people beside him, thus he treasured the ones that stayed. And that thought made you so incredibly apologetic that you had to swallow the tension in your throat. You hated that you fell for him so hard. You hated that you had to leave him because of it. You hated that you knew, that he would blame himself when you’ll leave.

And you started to hate yourself the most because of all of it.

“Did you miss me that much?” You teased, trying to calm yourself with a friendly banter.

“Yes.” The answer was immediate. The kiss he placed on your temple as natural as breathing. “Everything and everyone seems to be taking you away from me these days.” He said and you could hear him sulking. Your heart squeezed again, but you knew that you were doing the right thing. The distance was necessary.

Necessary for you to avoid breaking. You had to protect yourself first, you decided. You couldn’t remain in love with him forever. You had to move on and in order to do that you had to keep the distance. Which was impossible with him around, when he craved physical touch so badly.

You started to be so mad at yourself for breaking your streak today. You didn’t realize how touchy he will be after some time apart and it was getting to your head. You were so conflicted. You felt too much, and that was always the case when you were around him.

He was in love with someone else. Your head was screaming loudly, trying to calm the wave of unwanted emotions.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. I love you, you thought. “But now I’m here, so maybe I can inspect you for any injuries? You always seem to neglect them as long as they don’t make you bleed out.” You managed to free yourself from his hold and missed how his hands went after you for a second. He didn’t want you to put distance between you two. Not yet, not ever.

He looked into your beautiful, shiny eyes and nodded without a thought. He couldn’t say no to you, not when he saw the still remaining hint of worry in them. Besides, checking for injuries always came with physical contact, and he was so starved. He needed to feel your body close to his. Your hands on him, somewhere, anywhere, everywhere. He felt addicted and craved some kind of relief. He looked after you like a lost puppy, following your footsteps closely, touching the familiar material of your coat that you left on a counter. The distance this past month made him feral, every part of his body screamed to hold you and don’t let go.

You sat down on his couch, and patted the place next to you, hinting at him to sit beside you. He was trying not to appear too eager while doing so, and also when he started taking off the upper part of his uniform. He was almost shaking with excitement knowing that you really came to see him. That you were worried about him. The distance was making him sick. Furious. Desperate. Hurt.

He suppressed a shudder when you touched his shoulder and peeled away the material off his back completely. Your hands were pleasantly warm, as always. He bit his lip trying not to gasp from the contact.

He needed more.

“Xavier.” He hummed, giddy inside upon finally hearing his name from your lips. He was bracing for your outburst. Couldn’t wait for it. “You said you lied about the mission being hard, while having a fucking gash on your back? I-I can’t believe you...” He heard your angry, shaky voice and smirked unintentionally. You were worried about him and he liked that. He liked the attention, when it was coming from you.

Yet, you didn’t know that.

You cursed under your breath and went to grab the first aid kit from one of his drawers, and proceeded to patch the man back up, having no idea that he allowed the Wanderer to injure him, to have an excuse to see you. To keep you with him for a minute longer, even if it was only under the pretense of tending to his injuries. He was ready to do anything at this point to keep you from slipping away from his grasp.

If you knew that, you wouldn’t be so adamant on distancing yourself.

But because you didn’t know, you also didn’t predict that after patching him up, he would propose you to eat dinner with him, making up an excuse that he didn’t want to be alone with his pain. Later, when you wanted to come back to your place, he mentioned he wanted to play kitty cards, the game you adored. You couldn’t refuse him.

During the next hours you spent at his place you both talked in the same way you always used to - about everything and anything, exchanging opinions, stories and everyday thoughts. You laughed together for the first time in weeks, and your cheeks hurt from how much he was able to make you smile. You always had so much fun with him, he was your favorite person in the whole world. You missed him so bad, despite knowing that you couldn’t back out from your plan fully. Yet, you allowed yourself a little break, telling yourself that it was in order for your distancing to not look suspicious. In addition, he was injured, and you felt the need to comfort him in any way you could. The gash on his back wasn’t that deep, but it worried you regardless.

The atmosphere changed drastically only when he managed to win the next round of kitty cards. You jokingly frowned at him, forging displeasure, and he looked directly at your pounting lips. The time seemed to stop when you noticed that look. He raised his hand to touch your collarbone, caressing it with his fingers, up to your neck and over your cheek. He looked deeply into your eyes, and you noticed how dark his ones became. You found it fascinating that his soft gaze could change so drastically in a matter of seconds.

His hand reached out to grab your chin and bring your face closer to his. And when he whispered: “Could I ask for a reward?” with that dangerous, needy voice of his, you knew that you couldn’t deny him anything.

When your lips touched, you decided that it will be the last time you let it happen. It would be your goodbye, before loosing the feel of his touch. You thought that you could at least make the best of it, get lost in the artificial feeling of being treasured for the last time, before you started the last phase of your plan.

After that, you had to cut off the ties with him completely. No matter the measures. No matter the pain.

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“Xavier, m-maybe not today?” You asked when you realized how low he was going with his kisses. You knew what he was about to do, and you hated how much you couldn’t contain the sounds that were coming out of your mouth when he was doing it. Besides, it didn’t feel like a mutual pleasure anymore, it felt like an act of service and you were not sure you wanted him to pleasure only you.

He looked at you, having already dropped to his knees. He looked ruined, his hair already a mess from the touch of your fingers, lips wet and swollen, shirt off displaying his toned chest, bandaged in the center with caution. He was practically heaving. The sight made you blush.

“Why not?” He voice sounded whiny, his lips already kissing the inside of your thigh as if he couldn’t restrain himself. Every kiss send electricity to your already wet core and you found it hard to think clearly. His hands were grabbing your tights possessively, relishing in their softness. “Please, let me eat you out. I’ll make you feel good, I promise.” The pleading in his eyes was so apparent. So unfiltered.

“Don’t you want to get to the point already?” You offered shyly and he huffed out a laugh.

“Where are you trying to run off to this time?” It sounded like a joke, but he appeared annoyed. “Relax, starlight and let me take care of you. Please.” You still hesitated. It made him pout. “I need it, please, star. I want to taste you so bad. I didn’t manage to last time.” He kissed your knee and put his head on it, looking for the answer in your unsure eyes. “Will you let me?” His pleading tone, along with his desperate gaze was what made you break. You whispered a soft confirmation and it was all it took before he quickly put his mouth on your core, licking vigorously, devouring you like the most delicious thing on the planet.

“Mmmm.” You heard him humming, before your own cries, along with the constant tremble of your legs, drowned out any other sound.

He was elated.

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“Mmmh— Yes. Yes. H—holy—” He whimpered at the same time with his thrusts and squeezed your waist harder, moving his hands up and down your back, caressing it affectionately. “You are s-so warm, so beautiful, fuck—” He moaned when you tightened on him. You stiffed a whimper and tried to commit to memory the touch of his strong hands.

He was taking you slowly from behind and the pace was almost unbearable for you. You needed more, and you couldn’t stand how romantic it felt when he was this gentle with you. However, at the same time you didn’t want him to strain himself, you were aware that the slow pace was reasonable due to the injury on his back. The slow pace did surprise you either way, you thought that after so much time apart he would be quick and rough, chasing his pleasure faster than he normally would. Instead, he acted even more passionately than usual.

The slow pace brought you so much pleasure that you couldn’t contain the sounds escaping from your lips. He kept pressing your most sensitive spots, his thrusts slow, deep and precise. His forehead rest on the back of your shoulder, and you could feel his hot, labored breath pressing against your damp skin.

He made you feel so appreciated, and so cared for, and that made you uneasy. More so, with the accompaniment of the things he was constantly saying to you, from the moment you allowed him to touch you today.

“Can you turn around now? Please, my star, I want to see you.” He half-whispered and started kissing your neck, then moving his mouth to every patch of your skin he could reach: your shoulders, back, arms. No place was left unkissed under his relentless lips. You shook your head no, you didn’t want to let this become even more passionate than it already was. You positioned yourself facing the headboard of the bed from the very beginning, and you were adamant to keep your stance up until the end. You feared that your eyes would betray you, displaying your feelings for him and that was what made you not lose your composure.

Upon hearing your refusal for the third time this night, he proceeded to voice his frustrations by grunting, and thrust into you a little harder. You moaned loudly, surprised at the sudden change of tempo.

“Please, starlight.” He begged, his voice achingly earnest. He picked up the pace and you almost choked with how deep he reached inside of you now. You thought that you could never get used to how big he was, his girth filling you up to the brim. “Turn around. T-turn around for me.”

“X-xavier slow down, I don’t want you to get hurt—” You managed to choke out, grasping sheets with your hands for some kind of stability. You closed your eyes when they were turning upwards, biting your lip in the process. He felt otherworldly, but you couldn’t help but think about the gash on his back. He shouldn’t strain himself.

“Then turn around and look at me.” He repeated and you shook your head again.

“I-I can’t, I—Ah—”

“W-why do you keep—Mmh—denying me?” His voice came out like a growl and he kept up the fast tempo. Then, he grabbed your shoulder and put his other hand on your lower back, making you bend over more. His thrusts got even faster, making you moan louder. “Like that. Yes.” You breathed quietly. So good. He was so, so good. “I just want to see your face. I need to kiss y—A—Ah—Kiss you so bad, so, so, so bad.” He thrusted more deeply, making you involuntarily back out from the stimulation, your body almost collapsing, but he quickly grabbed you with his strong arms, and brought you even closer to him. You saw stars and touched one of the arms that held your whole body — from your waist, between your breasts, to your neck. His arm was so hard, so strong. He was huge compared to you. “No, n-no, don’t run away, star. You feel so good—G-God how I missed this—” He held you closer by the second, pressing more kisses to your shoulders, his thrusts becoming quicker, less deep. You were holding back your tears from how good he felt inside you. “I missed you. I missed you. I miss you.” He started babbling and that’s how you knew he was close.

To your surprise, he suddenly pulled out of you completely and grabbed you by your shoulders, turning you around to finally face him. Before you could show any signs of protest, he lowered himself onto his forearms, caging your head between his biceps so that he could have a perfect view of your face. He took his cock in one of his hands and he slipped himself into you again with ease. You shuddered and cried out softly with astonishment.

“Xavier—!”

“Yes. Yes, that’s my name.” He started thrusting into you again, this time much slower and more attentive, and looked deep into your eyes. You had nowhere to run, the only thing you could do was to close your eyes, but the sight of him so close made you want to never look away. “Say it one more time. Just once.” He looked ethereal, his silver hair wet from the perspiration that gathered oh his forehead, and his cheeks painted a pretty shade of red. You could see how blissful he felt. “So p-pretty.” He finally kissed your lips softly. “So sweet.” He licked into your mouth, deepening the kiss. It made your toes curl, you loved when he kissed you this sloppily. When he released your already swollen lips, there was a string of saliva connecting you. It was all so intense.

“Why were you denying my kisses?” He kissed you again deeply, sucking on your tongue. His slow thrusts made you go insane. “You don’t like kissing me like this?” He sucked on your lips until they were red and swollen. There was so much saliva. He licked them and kissed them again. “I could come from this feeling alone. So soft.” You were shocked at how much he talked. Was he always this talkative? Or were you realizing it only now, when you knew that the closeness with him would soon come to an end?

“Am I making you feel good? Yeah?” You decided to nod at him truthfully, your moans short, resembling small hiccups. You were lost in the pleasure, you could feel the end approaching. He put his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. “W—wow, you—you sound so adorable, I won’t last long—” He moaned and grabbed your face in his hands, kissing your nose first, then softly your lips.

“Yes, yeah, let go. Let go my little star. My starlight, my treasure.” He whispered into your ear, feeling you clench down on him as you came with his name on your lips. You felt him reaching the end quickly after you, he shuddered, his mouth opened, and he released into the condom with a low moan. Still cumming, he took your face into his hands and kissed your forehead gently. When you both were still coming down from the high, breathing heavily, he began stroking your hair, pushing it out of your face, and kissing your cheeks.

What in the world was all that?

God, you couldn’t do this anymore. You couldn’t let this keep up, it felt too real, too romantic, and your heart really couldn’t take it. Not when every time you were together like this you keep thinking that he would like you to be someone else instead. Did he imagined her under him this time? You trembled, scared because of that thought, but the things he was saying made you feel that it really could be the case.

Your breath came out shakily and you took his muscular forearms in your palms and grazed them gently with your thumbs. You let yourself feel for the last time how warm his body was, how pleasurable his weight on top of you. You kept your eyes closed to not let him see your tears, but you couldn’t stop one from going down your cheek.

And of course he saw it as soon as it appeared. He seemed to always look at you when you wanted him to ignore you the most.

He kissed it off, swiped the wetness with his thumb and proceeded to kiss your temple.

“Why are you crying?” He asked softly, his eyebrows furrowed. “Did I hurt you?” He appeared so concerned, and you felt the shivers going down your spine.

Yes, you wanted to scream.

“No, of course not.” You said instead. Because it was your fault for feeling too much. “I’m okay, just tired.” You lied straight to his face. He send you a small smile and kissed your closed eyelids gently.

And when he shifted and pulled out from you slowly with a little hiss, you let out a sigh and knew that your time with him had to end now.

But before you could lift yourself up, he hugged you from the side and put his head on your chest. He was listening to the sound of your heartbeat, and you already knew that it had a soothing effect on him. His hand started caressing one side of your waist, his hair touching your chin, his scent overlapping you. You could feel his heartbeat on you, fast but steady. Another tear escaped from your eyes. You had to run away. You couldn’t take the closeness anymore. It was too painful.

“Xavier, I—” You swallowed the sob forming in your throat. Your voice came out rusty. “I really need to go.”

“Already? Stay with me for a little while longer.” He squeezed you harder to himself, showing no intention of releasing you from his hold. You hated that you needed to cut short such a vulnerable moment with him. “The night is still young. I thought we could maybe watch something together? Or bake these cinnamon cookies you like? I practiced, they taste and look almost perfect now.” You closed your eyes hard, moved by his thoughtfulness, and you almost sobbed audibly if it wasn’t for your hand quickly covering your mouth.

But he felt it, and it made all the muscles in his body tighten, as if he was struck.

“Star?” He loosed his hold on you and quickly studied your face. “What’s wrong?” His eyes became huge, filled with worry. And that concern on his features was what finally made you run.

You raised gently and pushed yourself from him, starting to pick up your scattered pieces of clothing. Your hands shakily put the panties and your sweater on your trembling body, not once looking Xavier’s way. He was waiting patiently for your answer.

“I can’t do this anymore, Xavier.” You replied, feeling more comfortable now that you had some clothes on. You couldn’t meet his eyes, but you heard him standing up from the bed.

“Do what?” He sounded puzzled. You heard him grabbing and putting on some pants hastily, clicking his belt in place. As if he was preparing to run after you. “Did I do something wrong? You didn’t like it today? Was I too intense?” You had never heard him speak so quickly, and the panic in his tone was a rare occurrence too.

“No, it’s��� I am at fault here.” You answered truthfully, and you took a couple steps away from him. You wanted to run as fast as you could but for the love of God, you couldn’t locate any other pieces of your clothing. Your eyesight was clouded by unleashed tears. No, not now, you couldn’t let them fall until you were in the safety of your home.

“But you were perfect.” His voice carried more panic by the second. “We could change some things. You could tell me what to do differently, everything works with me as long as I do it with you.”

You suddenly remembered the beginning of your night, and rushed to his living room, were you finally found your pants.

“No. No, and please stop trying to persuade me. This—this friends with benefits thing, it ends now.” You uttered surely, now fully clothed. You turned around and finally laid your eyes on him, and saw him wearing only black jeans and a miserable expression on his face. God, he still looked perfect. He almost shined, the workout clearly visible on his face, his hair, his lips. Your resolution almost wavered.

“Okay. Okay, of course, I—I understand.” He answered quickly, and you felt a slight pang in your chest at how easily he took the news. This whole time you were so easily disposable. “But please stay. I want to spend some time with you, I haven’t seen you in such a long time.” He took a careful step towards you, and you wanted to bolt then and there. “Please, stay.”

“No, Xai, I—” You paused to take a breath, trying not to crumble in front of him. His worried expression felt like a knife to your chest. You were his best friend, yet here you were, clearly wanting to run away from him—how could you expect him to feel anything but hurt upon such a sight? You felt incredibly cruel. “I really can’t. I think I need a break from all—all of this.”

“You mean from me?” He didn’t wait for your answer, the thoughts in his head seemed to go quicker than lightning. “No, please, I swear that if you don’t like it then I won’t touch you anymore. I swear.” You hated how upset he sounded. You closed your eyes for a second and fresh tears slipped away. You couldn’t keep them from falling anymore. “You know how much you mean to me. Don’t make me stay away.” He looked as if you were tearing his heart out, his posture slumped, hands shaking. How you wished you could take them into your own and warm them up.

“I have to.” Your voice came out whiny. He stepped closer to you, keeping his arms in front of himself.

“But why?” His question was quiet, nearly a whisper. He couldn’t help but wonder, if you really wanted a break from him, then why were you crying as if you didn’t want to go?

“I—” You stopped yourself before going as far as to utter a confession. He couldn’t know. Not now. Not ever. “This— This situation, and how our friendship looks like right now it’s—it’s so wrong.” You opted for a response that was the closest to the truth.

“It’s not.” He replied immediately. “Not for me.”

“Well it is for me. Friends don’t sleep with each other, Xavier! We messed up so bad this time and I’m afraid we can’t let this past us.”

“Do you regret it that much?” His voice was losing its’ strength, and he seemed so utterly hurt. Meanwhile, you were just trying to protect yourself from feeling even more pain. How could you make him understand without confessing to him? You didn’t really know because you were always honest with him before. He was your safe place.

And to think that everything could be avoided, your friendship left unscratched if only you could control your feelings better. But you had no idea how to stop loving him so deeply, when he was everything that you’ve ever dreamed of.

“I should. I know that I should, it was never going to end well, I—”

“Stay. Please, starlight, stay. At least for one more night, let me hold you just for one more—” His arms went out to grab you and you flinched, taking a few steps back. His jaw tightened.

He was always afraid that he will see you run away from his touch. He felt as if his nightmare became reality - the thought of loosing you too much for him to bear.

“Xavier, I can’t!” You trembled all over. Why did he make this so hard for you? “I can’t do this with you anymore, can’t you understand how much it hurts me?” The truth was at the tip of your tongue, craving to be spoken out loud.

“Why? Why does it hurt you? The only one who has a good reason to be hurt is me, you avoided me, ignored me, and for what? If you just talked to me honestly one time—”

“You are in love with someone else!”

The silence that followed was unbearable and seemed to last ages. Slow ticking of the clock was the only thing cutting through the tension, reminding you that the time didn’t stop, even if your heart seemed to do so.

You turned to him, the tears falling from your eyes in cascades now and your chest was coming up and down rapidly with how fast you were breathing.

The tears run down your cheeks quickly, making your vision less blurry. How you wished that they stayed in place, if that meant that you wouldn’t have to see Xavier’s pained expression, that quickly changed into one of utter confusion. You were shaking with how much you were feeling, your frustration pooling out of you in a form of shaking hands and bitten lips.

“I can’t continue being like this with you when I know that you’re in love with her! And I get it! I really do. She’s so wonderful, and so, so lovable. And I could never be her, no matter how much you would want me to be. I just don’t want to be a replacement anymore.” You continued, the desperation in your voice almost making you wince. You sounded pathetic and felt so embarrassed for it. You felt as if you were loosing the ground beneath your feet.

“What?” He said completely stunned. He wasn’t moving a single muscle. “What on earth are you talking about?” He hissed, and took a step towards you, and when you shook your head and wanted to bolt through the door, he quickly grabbed you by your wrist and pressed your body close to his. You gasped at the contact, so sudden and forced. “No, stop running away from me!” He raised his voice, still holding your wrist tightly. You’ve never heard him sound so irritated. “Speak.” You kept your head low, when he was desperately trying to catch eye contact, but you couldn’t look at him right now. Not when your true feelings were basically flowing to the surface.

“About what? You really thought I didn’t know about your feelings for her?” You struggled to keep your voice from shaking. “Xavier, I know, and I knew from the very beginning, and you really don’t have to explain yourself to me. I really understand.” You tried to free your wrist from his grasp, but he held it too tightly. You needed to run, this conversation wasn’t supposed to happen, you didn’t even have a reason to be mad at him. You couldn’t blame him for not loving you romantically, nor for feeling this way towards someone else. You were only friends, and friends should be happy for each other when they find someone dear to them, not sick of the idea of loosing the other to someone else.

“I’m afraid you actually don’t understand anything.” He sounded almost defeated. His voice back to it’s soft tone, but his hold on you unrelenting.

“It’s really okay, I—”

“No.” He scoffed. You finally gained enough courage to let your eyes meet his and you were instantly appalled at how furious he appeared to be. “It’s truly NOT.” He released your wrist and put his hands up to stroke his hair back. He breathed out loudly. “Who the fuck are you talking about?” He asked, confusion and irritation taking over his features completely. You never saw him wear that expression while talking with you.

“Oh, don’t make me—” You cut off, seeing his furious glare. You took a deep breath, stepped back from him and touched your cheek, trying to swipe the wetness caused by your tears. You failed, they were still coming down, one by one, making your efforts futile. “MC. You know that I mean MC.”

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” He groaned and let his head fall back. He covered his face with his hands for a second, and when he looked at you again, you couldn’t read his expression correctly. “Who told you about it? Where did you get it from?”

“Jeremiah.” That’s all he needed to know. And apparently it was enough for him to grasp the situation. He laughed humorlessly and shook his head, his hands squeezed tightly into fists by his sides.

“I will strangle him this time. I swear, I will—”

“Oh, please, Xavier, stop! What’s so wrong about me knowing? I was glad that someone finally enlightened me!” You couldn’t believe that he was so angry at you for knowing such an important thing. Not when from the moment Jeremiah said that he had a thing for MC for a long time, you wondered why he kept that a secret from you. “You never even said a word about it even though I thought we were best friends. I had to learn from someone else and that already hurt.” You wanted this conversation to be over. You wanted him to admit to it already and let you go away, with a broken, but at least free heart.

But he had different plans.

“Have you maybe thought that I never said a word about it simply because it wasn’t true?” He asked carefully, his voice still angry. “I just can’t believe you thought that I loved someone else—”

“What?” Your mind went blank. You needed a moment to collect your thoughts. “What do you mean it’s not true?” You sniffed quietly, confusion taking over your face.“B-But Jeremiah said that you had a past with her and—”

“I did. I had feelings for her once, but that was literal lifetimes ago!” His irritation didn’t ease in the slightest. “I had feelings for someone who looked similar to her. But she’s not the same person anymore, and even if she was I couldn’t possibly fall in love with her. Not now, not ever.” You stopped in your tracks, trying to analyze everything he was saying to you and failing miserably at it. You looked at his face, your expression puzzled, searching for an answer there, hidden between his beautiful, soft features. It shocked you to see that now he started to calm himself down, gaze genuine, an image of complete transparency.

You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea that you were mistaken. All this time, when you thought you never stood a chance, when you thought that he loved another, when you wanted to let him go—

“You’re not in love with MC.” It wasn’t a question anymore, your voice quiet while you were trying to process that thought. He must’ve seen how you fought with the thoughts inside your head, because he released a groan and took a step towards you. You unintentionally took one step back. He frowned.

“Of course I’m not.” Voice sweet like honey, stance sure, his eyes searched desperately for yours. He looked at your face, covered in tears and his eyebrows furrowed deeper, hating how upset you seemed and didn’t know how to reverse it. “How could I ever be, when your face is all I can see, every time I close my eyes?” He uttered looking at you with such devotion that it almost made your knees buckle.

Complete silence took over your thoughts after his confession. You didn’t know what was happening.

But fortunately, his mind finally started to piece everything together in a picture, that although was beyond frustrating to think about, was giving him so much hope for something he thought he already lost.

He allowed himself to relax, took a deep breath and finally decided to drop his inner shackles, letting his emotions flow out of him without restraint.

“You are the one that I love.” He said clearly, not moving a muscle. He wondered if you could see the quick movement of his chest, with how hard his heart was trying to escape through it to reach you. Whereas, you felt as if yours stopped moving completely, along with the time around you, not ready to believe that this was truly happening. “It was you from the very beginning. I adored you since the day I first saw you.” He continued, his gaze piercing into your face, slight confusion visible on his features. “And I thought that was obvious? I wasn’t exactly the best at hiding my feelings, especially after I told you about them the first night we spend together.”

You blinked slowly. Once, then twice.

Your head hurt. You couldn’t wrap it around everything he was saying. Xavier was in love with you? And he already told you about it? You were so confused that the only way you knew how to react was with denial.

“You—You didn’t. I didn’t know, you are not being serious.” He shook his head in disbelief.

“I did. You really don’t remember?” His tone softened, and he waited a short second for your answer, but couldn’t contain his nerves. “It was the night I kissed you for the first time, thinking that would be the last. But you reciprocated.” His eyes gleamed in the moonlight, and you found yourself holding your breath, afraid even the slightest sound might interrupt the flow of his confession.

“You—You kissed me back, and let me do things to you I only ever dared to dream about before.” He took another step your way, a small smile grazing his handsome face. “And the confession slipped out of me so naturally before we even reached the bed.” He briefly recalled that fateful night, describing the conversations you forgot, but longed to remember since that very moment.

“You didn’t reply, but you responded nicely to my touch, so I thought that meant that you wanted me too, that maybe you’d accept me. As your beloved. Your soulmate.” You brought your hand to cover your mouth. You couldn’t believe it. “But then in the morning when you woke up, you were panicking. I tried to reassure you, but you weren’t listening to me.”

That part of the story you knew by heart, him telling you that he couldn’t forget, didn’t want to forget. Back then you didn’t connect it with anything close to confession, but more with the change in your relationship. You really didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, you didn’t even dream about him loving you, when you though that he loved MC. Insecurities and false assumptions completely clouded your vision.

“And when you proposed staying friends, with the bonus of intimacy, of course I took the chance. I thought you remembered my confession and didn’t reciprocate my feelings, but I was so desperate that I would take anything you were willing to give me, even if it didn’t involve your love. I—” he cut off, blush flushed over his cheeks, up to the tips of his ears. He took a shaky breath. “I was clinging to the hope that maybe through the new shared intimacy I could show you how much you meant to me. And maybe, maybe someday you would start feeling the same, when you realized how good we are together and how good I can be for you.”

“Xavier—Oh my god.” You breathed, your hand still covering your mouth, your eyes never leaving his face. His beautiful, starstruck face, now so full of confusion and unspoken hurt. “Bunny, I’m so, so, so sorry. I had no idea, I—” Your voice practically a whisper, you were still coming to terms with the fact that your feelings were reciprocated. And that you were the one who complicated things between you. “I don’t remember anything you said to me that night. I couldn’t even hear you through the sound of my own blood thrumming in my ears, that’s how drunk I felt. How overwhelmed after our first kiss.”

The alcohol consumed that night also wasn’t of big help. You were a lightweight and you drunk only occasionally, so the few drinks you had already made you feel dizzy. Mixed with the intensity of your emotions, it overwhelmed you so intensely that his touch was all you could remember from that night. But now you could make it all alright.

“I only remember your touch, the things we did, and our conversation the next morning. I remember touching your hand and initiating the kiss, and my tipsy brain just thought that you went with it to forget about MC.” You said truthfully, letting it all pour out of you. Your cheeks burned with the embarrassment of admitting how desperate you were for him, that the thought he loved another didn’t stop you from having sex with him.

Then the blush deepened from the realization that from the very beginning the only one he was thinking about was you.

This thought made your head spin, the happiness slowly bubbling in your chest. Your whole body trembled.

“That’s— Fuck. You really don’t remember.” He shook his head again, realizing how deep the misunderstanding reached. “You didn’t initiate anything. I was the one who kissed you first.”

“No, I—”

“Yes. You touched my hand, smiled at me contentedly and said some things and I—I just couldn’t restrain myself any longer.” This time you were the one who started approaching him slowly. You needed him close. Always. And you realized that now you didn’t have any reasons to deny yourself that lack of distance. “You looked so soft, so open and kissable, and I just went for it. And then you reciprocated.” The light in his eyes started sparkling when he noticed that you were finally coming closer to him. He reached out his hand for you and you took it gently, still shaking from the unspoken emotions.

“I can’t believe it. All this time I thought that you were in love with someone else.” His hand was warm, the touch electrifying. You squeezed his hand and intertwined your fingers together. You saw how between your clasped hands, his Evol started shining brightly, shading soft light upon your features. It was a sign that he was excited. “I tried to put a distance between us, end this intimacy because I thought that I was just a second best for you. An easy distraction.”

“How could you think that? Almost from the moment I met you, I have loved you passionately—” He brought you even closer together, pulling you by your intertwined hands, and put his other hand on your cheek. He swiped the reminder of your tears with his fingers, looking into your eyes with a devotion so apparent that it took your ability to form coherent thoughts. How did you manage to miss the way he was always looking your way?

“X-Xavier.”

“I couldn’t even think about anyone else even if I tried to. You occupy my every thought. How could I ever find a place for somebody else in my heart when you fill the space out completely?” Everything that came out of his mouth was laced with impatience. He was trying so hard to make you understand him, and the intensity of his emotions. He couldn’t psychically hold it inside anymore, he restrained himself for so long that he felt as if all of his walls finally crumbled. He needed you to know everything.

“I love you, starlight. I’m so in love with you that I couldn’t contain that feeling inside anymore. I couldn’t even spend five minutes in your presence without trying to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you. My whole body longs for you constantly.” He said, thinking off the months after you started being friends with benefits. How at first he wasn’t sure how much he could take from you, and then, when he noticed that you didn’t mind the affection outside the bedroom, he couldn’t contain himself. He kissed you every time he had a chance, he touched you everywhere he could, he was trying to stay away from you as little as possible. Despite thinking that you did not reciprocate his feelings fully, his love for you flowed out of him naturally, every look and every touch laced with unconditional devotion.

During the period of your silence and avoiding him, he thought that it was because he finally crossed a line. He let his feelings out too much, he finally made you uncomfortable. He was starting to act as you lover, not as your friend and it wasn’t what you agreed to. He thought you still didn’t love him and maybe that was a sign that you never will. And even if that could be the case, he still couldn’t let you go.

And it appeared that he didn’t have to.

That you were not uncomfortable, but unsure.

That it was all a huge misunderstanding.

And the words that came out of your pretty, little mouth next, almost brought him to his knees.

“Xavier. Xavier me too, I—” You stuttered, completely overwhelmed by how much you were feeling. You squeezed his wrists, and looked deep into his beautiful, hopeful eyes. “I love you too. And I fell in love with you long before our first night together. I just thought that it was wishful thinking, because your heart was already taken by someone else. And that I could just stay beside you as your friend and that would be enough. And then share your bed from time to time, if that meant that I could hold you close, be on the receiving end of your affection.” You said and raised on your feet to place a quick kiss on his lips. He chased after you instantly, despite appearing stunned. You noticed his hands were shaking.

“You really mean it?” He asked, leaning towards you, kissing your lips again, this time for longer. He had trouble keeping his mouth away from yours, especially now, that he knew that every one of your kisses was filled with love. “Am I not dreaming this time?” You smiled and stroked his hair affectionately, petting his head, wanting to convey your feelings in every way possible.

“Xavier, I love you.” You repeated, grabbing his head in your palms and looking deep into his eyes. Your voice was strong, leaving no room for uncertainty. “I love you so mu—” He didn’t let you finish that sentence, because he quickly picked you up and spun you around, holding you in his arms. You giggled and put your arms around his neck, holding him tightly, his face buried in your neck. When he stopped, he quickly found your lips again and that kiss felt groundbreaking.

He held you close to him, one hand squeezing you by your waist, and the other holding your jaw gently. His brows furrowed in desperation and his kisses were slow, sensual, sending pleasant shocks throughout your whole body. His tongue made an appearance, and he tasted you in a way that made your legs feel like jelly. He licked into your mouth, grunting lowly, his fingers placing a strand of your hair behind your ear, then tracing patterns on your warm cheek. When you opened your eyes for a second, you could see that the tips of his ears were red. The blush spread through his cheeks too, making him look so adorable.

“It does feel like a dream.” He breathed between kisses. “And sounds too good to be true.” He captured your lips again and you smiled into his mouth. Your heart was about to burst.

“I love you.” You repeated, basking in the feeling of finally being able to say it out loud, be open with your emotions. He released your lips and kissed your forehead. You looked up, and he placed his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, a wide smile adorning his face.

“Don’t stop saying that. You make me so happy.” He said quietly, and you whispered the confession once again, making him sigh shakily.

“I was so stupid. I should’ve asked you right from the start if what Jeremiah said was true.” You said and hugged him more tightly. “I should’ve told you sooner.” You placed your head on his strong chest, your ear touching his bare body, listening to his fast heartbeat. Your hands were hugging his waist, mindful not to touch his bandaged back.

“No, I foolishly thought that telling you once would suffice. I forgot that you drank that night and that could’ve clouded your memory.” He squeezed you harder to himself and started back away with you in his arms, until the back of his legs touched his couch. He feel into it, holding you close, making you sit on his lap. “To think that I could have you sooner—” He looked into your eyes, as if searching for something.

“You had me before, and you have me now. My heart, my body, my soul.” You positioned yourself more comfortably, placing your legs on both sides of his waist, and took his face into your hands. He closed his eyes at the contact, and started to caress your body, from your waist, down to your legs. He squeezed the plush of your tights and let his head fall against the couch pillows.

He couldn’t believe that this was happening. He prayed that this wasn’t a dream, that all of the things your were telling him were true. His chest vibrated pleasurably, incredible warmth spreading through it. His heart beat so quickly, and so loudly that he thought it was the first time he felt its’ beat so intensely himself. Your words made him feel drunk with emotion.

He opened his eyes to look at your face.

He almost choked with how beautiful you were. How divine, sitting on him, caressing his shoulders, smiling at him with the stars in your eyes. He looked at your lips, full and swollen, bearing the signs of his kisses. He looked at your neck, delicate and unmarked, and he stroked it with the back of his hand, wanting to change that fact immediately, knowing that now he was allowed to do that. He switched his gaze to your eyes again and drank them in, basking in their light, wishing that this moment could never end. Or maybe it should, so it could become your new beginning.

You were his treasure. His star, his light, guiding him through life, making his existence worth pursuing. You showed him that the world can be beautiful, despite it’s overbearing cruelty. You were his salvation, his safe place, his one and only, showing him every single day that he mattered, that he was not a lost cause, or a villain in disguise. You taught him that he was capable of loving so intensely and now, that he was loved as passionately in return.

He doubted his worth, but the only way he knew to prove his love for you was by protecting you with his very life. You had no idea, but his sword, now a symbol of your bond, was yours to command—and you were the only reason he continued to wield it.

“What are you thinking about?” Your voice was not more than a whisper, your eyes still looking into his starry ones, losing yourself in the deep blue. You loved them, how magnificent and expressive they were, and you swore to yourself to tell him about it every day.

He seemed to get out of the trace he was in, and his eyes softened, still taking you in. He smiled and took your hands into his, and kissed your knuckles, his kisses gentle and long-lasting.

“You.” He replied shortly, his voice gentle and reassuring. He put your hands on his shoulders, making you hug his neck with them. You complied and put your whole arms around his neck, bringing your bodies closer. One of his hands touched your waist, caressing it delicately, and the other one stroked your hair, admiring its’ softness. His eyes never left yours. “Always you, my starlight. Then, now, and till the end of my days. I will always carry you in my mind, and in my heart, to be able to reach you, no matter the distance.” You could feel his breath on your face with how close you were to each other, and he gazed at your open lips, which were already waiting to be kissed senselessly. “I love you, as I never loved anyone else in my life, and I never will again.” His lips captured yours in a kiss so soft, yet so desperate, and full of adoration, that you felt a single, happy tear escape from your eye. He deepened the kiss and held you throughout the night, kissing you and touching you, never wanting the moment to end, the warmth of your skin to become a memory.

It all started with the simplest of touches, and it never truly ended. The spark you ignited that first night has never faded. Since the moment you met, it has burned brightly between you both, a light so powerful that it could be seen across the vastness of deep space. Everlasting and exquisite, just like the different lifetimes you both had ahead of you, always finding each other, as if guided by it’s warmth.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

thank you for your time and please let me know if you liked it!! i was thinking of writing more for this au, maybe from xavier’s perspective? how they met and how he fell in love + how their first night really played out ♡

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (08)

chapter eight: ships in the night

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; i’ve been told this is the angstiest chapter yet saur yk you’ve been warned, mentions of past seggsy times, oc is self-deprecating self-sabotaging, oc has an anxiety attack in this one, erhm just Big Sad overall methinks, also could've been more edited but i am a godless monster word count: 7.2k note: wt is backkkkkk!! and it's the penultimate chapter omg :( lowkey nervous about how this is gonna be perceived bc i feel like my brand is Sad™️ and i haven't properly written anything Sad™️ in a WHILE. but yeah, wt8 is yours now have funnn. also ty chessica @matchannie for proofreading!!

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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Sorry, I know that comment wasn’t funny Just wanted you to love me, but I didn’t go about it right Sometimes the best advice that I can give Is to bite my lip and listen with my big fat mouth shut tight

big fat mouth - Arlie

You don’t think you can ever forget the look on his face, the hurt in his eyes when the words had tumbled out of your mouth in a panicked frenzy. The regret was immediate, but so was the damage.

Saying things you didn’t mean, watching Minho so utterly defeated that it kills you, and the deafening silence after he had walked away from you on heavy footsteps – you can’t describe how it all felt that night. It’s just… sinking, and sinking, and sinking; endlessly spiraling in an ocean of your own guilt and despair. It’s true what they say – misery loves company.

Distractions don’t work, because whenever that overwhelming dread eases by even a fraction, you’re once again reminded by the bracelet that’s wrapped around your wrist with the tiny dove charm hanging on the side. Neither of you paid it any mind the other night, that much is clear.

You know you should return it to him eventually; it’s never belonged to you and it never will. But every time you go to take it off, you can’t bring yourself to simply undo the clasp and hide the bracelet somewhere you can’t see. It lets you delude yourself into thinking that you haven’t lost him even after what you said, even after you stomped on his heart and left it bleeding where you stood. 

You’d been upset, thinking that you were the only one falling, terrified that you’d crash headfirst into the cold, hard ground because there’d be nobody to catch you. And yet, when Minho told you he loved you, it provided you no relief at all. The fear magnified tenfold, taking over you until you couldn’t see straight, until it consumed you whole.

Home is something you find, and you’ve found it in him. Your sun and your spring and your home, and everything good that you can ever name.

All your life, something is always missing, an empty space that you never learned how to fill. Like when you exit a room and there’s a nagging feeling in your gut telling you that you’ve forgotten something even though all of your belongings are accounted for. Like when you lose your favorite ring, one that’s a little too loose but beloved anyway, slipping over your knuckle without your permission and disappearing forever, and you keep running your fingers over where the golden band used to be until you come to terms with the fact that it’s never coming back and you’ll spend the rest of your life mourning the loss of that familiarity.

You’ve always looked for things you lost in places you’ve never been.

You just want to go home, but you know you’ll only ruin it in the end.

The problem has never been Minho or anybody else. It’s you, and how there’s something intrinsically wrong with you. You paint the ending before there’s even a beginning. You’d rather run and hide than let yourself feel anything, because if there’s happiness then there’s going to be hurt inevitably.

You don’t want him to wake up one day and look at you like you’re a stranger, to realize that he’s wasted his time and effort, that you just weren’t worth it after all. 

It’s funny how, when you’re a child, time seems to move so quickly. One minute, you’re four, maybe five years old, and your mother is refusing to speak to you because she thinks you ruined one of her bags, a large scratch running along the otherwise smooth leather surface like it’s been met with a pair of scissors or simply accumulated on her way to work and she hadn’t noticed until she got home and you happened to be in the vicinity of her anger; the next, she’s letting you relish in all your favorite desserts, cavities be damned.

One minute, you’re being rushed to the hospital with a bad case of food poisoning, your parents staring down at you as if you’re actually about to die; the next, you’re already at home, watching cartoons that you couldn’t understand but you like anyway because they’re full of pretty colors and princesses and fairies.

You don’t remember how your mother came to forgive you for the bag even though it wasn’t your fault, or what the hospital felt like or if what the doctors and nurses did to make you feel better even hurt. You only know that you wish to return to a smaller version of yourself whose memories you can’t even recall, return to a time in which you once so desperately wanted to escape from.

Now, when you’re hurt, time doesn’t pass in a blink of an eye like it used to. It stands still, sucks you down a vortex and makes you feel everything. 

No one ever really warns you about growing pains, that they’re unavoidable no matter how hard you try to avoid them, that they can last a lifetime because you never really stop growing, and it never really seems to ache any less.

Hyunjin: Attachment: 1 Image. Hyunjin: i sent this one in  Hyunjin: u??

You’d almost forgotten about the exhibition until Hyunjin had sent you those texts. Even though you’re not one to neglect deadlines, you suppose it’s fairly reasonable that this one in particular had slipped your mind. You haven’t really been able to wrap your head around that many things after all.

Every semester, yours and Hyunjin’s department rents out a gallery near campus for a whole week to showcase students’ works. It’s nothing exclusive, nothing like a competition where they pit a couple hundred kids against each other just for a spot at a fancy art gallery. Almost anyone in the Faculty of Arts can register before the submission deadline, and you suppose that’s another reason why you’d overlooked it so easily – because you didn’t earn it. It didn’t feel special. It was just another meaningless event to attend.

Regardless, you spent a chunk of an afternoon pondering your selection though it didn’t matter that much, almost two hours dedicated to picking out paintings you realized you didn’t love. Some you even turned out to hate, even though you could remember the pride radiating from you the moments the canvas had felt the last brush stroke. Maybe the glamor eventually wore off, the momentary high that coursed through you when you’d shown your finished works to your professors and peers, and received showers of praise in return.

The piece you chose in the end wasn’t your favorite by any means, but it was one of the only pieces you could still bear to look at without nitpicking too much. It was a painting of the waters, and you’ve always loved the waters.

You could recall the day you went to the promenade by yourself with a need to be away from everyone and everything, and an overshirt that was too light to combat the September evening chill as summer transitioned into fall. You watched the sky slowly darken after the sun had disappeared from view, watched as the buildings on the other side of the river lit up one by one until they made up for the light that retired for the day.

The thin layers made you shiver – the consequence of your poor choice in clothing that night – but there was something about sitting by the waterfront after dark, kicking pebbles around underneath your feet, and the gentle caress of the wind on your face and your hair that made the cold feel welcoming. You always thought the city was more beautiful at night, more calming amidst all of its perpetual chaos. It made you feel like you were inside a dream long forgotten, took you back to a north star that you left to gather dust on an abandoned shelf.

You could recall wanting to dive into that dream again, a dream in which you could chase a perfect version of you that would never exist and find light at the end of the tunnel, instead of returning to the reality where you always wound up suffocating in darkness. You wanted to be free, free from the noise and free from your own life despite one simple truth that you knew all too well – that you could run but never from yourself.

When you were young, it’s the moon that used to follow you everywhere. As you get older, it’s all of the things that keep you up at night.

You could recall your phone buzzing to life in your bag with Minho’s name on the screen, like a sign from the universe saying “Hey, this one’s for you. Don’t drown. You have a lighthouse.” and it was as though he could sense that you were falling, like someone had tied your heart to a rock and threw it into the very river in front of you to sink to the bottom. Your friends often said he had some sort of sixth sense when it came to you. Maybe there was some truth in that.

His voice pulled you out of it, even though he only called to ask if you wanted to come over and eat the boatload of food his mom had sent. He made you want to disappear a little less and in that moment, it was enough.

You left your hiding place to go to him, to lose yourself in stupid jokes and not-too-sweet desserts even if it was only for a couple hours. And when you returned home that night, everything spilled onto the canvas just from memory alone, from the feeling that you were desperately clinging onto with your shaking hands.

You always thought you could only run away to places. You didn’t know people could be escapes too, and somewhere along the way, that was what Minho became to you — your treasured escape, your new hiding place.

You manage to avoid everyone – with the exception of Hyunjin; you do have to see him in class after all – over the two and a half weeks leading up to the exhibition, drumming up excuse after excuse to bail whenever any of them asks to grab a bite together or just to simply hang out. If they saw you, they’d notice your puffy eyes and ask if you’ve been crying. They would ask why, and you can’t find in yourself to make up a lie believable enough for that kind of question.

You think Hyunjin has noticed. He’s a bit of an idiot sometimes, but he’s not stupid and he’s still blessed with the gift of sight. He doesn’t mention anything though, despite you showing up to almost every class with puffy eyelids. You suppose you’re grateful for that.

Minho hasn’t talked to you at all since that night. Doesn’t ask you how your project’s going, doesn’t ask you about the exhibition, barely even speaks in the group chat, not even a boring comment about the weather. What were you expecting anyway? You get it, you do.

But despite the silence, you never doubted that he would show up to the exhibition. If not for you, then he would be there to support Hyunjin.

The only person who really has an inkling that something is wrong is Jess, when you were getting ready together earlier tonight and she helped you conceal your puffy eyes. She’d tiptoed around the question before settling on  asking “Everything okay?” — simple, easy, quickly dismissible if you didn’t feel like sharing.

You didn’t, and she dropped the subject because there was no point in badgering you for answers anyway. 

Chan picked the both of you up afterward, and Jess didn’t have to explain anything to him when she slipped into the backseat with you instead of riding next to her boyfriend.

Now here you are, standing in a room full of your friends and peers, wearing a black dress that Jess helped you choose, and Minho is nowhere to be found. You’d spent all day pacing around, anxious at the mere thought of seeing him and even talking to him. What you hadn’t anticipated was the disappointment, the unbearable feeling in the pit of your stomach in response to his absence. You can’t tell which is worse; maybe every moment without him all sucks the same.

When Hyunjin starts whining and takes out his phone to spam Minho’s messages demanding his location (you’re thankful that it didn’t have to come to you), all he receives in return is a measly “Running late.”

And that’s it. A mere text is enough to satiate everyone’s curiosity. Well, everyone but Hyunjin, because he’s still a nagging drama queen.

Minho is running late, and to anyone else, it’s the most normal thing in the world.

But to you… it means something beyond that. Because this was him. This was your Minho. Your Minho who’s never been known for his tardiness, who’s never once broken a promise, who’s always there for you no matter what.

All you know right now is his absence, and it makes you sink.

You sink, and then you wait. Not a lot to be done about it.

You slip away to a quiet spot, a vacant hallway, to be by yourself while everyone is out there wandering around and gorging themselves on the free food and drinks. You shouldn’t be with them anyway. All you need is to wallow in peace and not be the black cloud hanging over everybody’s heads.

There’s something so incredibly lonely in the act of waiting. Waiting to board a plane, waiting in line at the grocery store. Waiting for a phone call or text message that you know won’t come, waiting for a person whom you can only hope would show up. At the end of the day, that’s what waiting is, isn’t it? It’s wanting. It’s hoping, and if there’s one thing you know about hope, it’s that it’s dangerous.

You wonder if this is how Minho felt all this time, waiting on a girl who’s always prepared to leave. You wonder if, that night, he had expected you to reciprocate his feelings. You did. You do, and a part of you wanted to tell him that you loved him too. The words were there, and yet…

It’s true that you love him, and it’s true that you don’t want to. If hope is dangerous then love is fucking terrifying. 

He’d been so patient with you, so awfully gentle and quiet in the chasm of his waiting that you mistook the tenderness for everything except for what it actually was – love. Or perhaps you did know. Maybe deep down, you knew that you would’ve loved him back with everything you had, with every fiber of your being. That you would’ve let him be the only one to ever really know you, and it felt like a fear greater than you could bear. 

In the end, did you lose him? Can you lose something you never had? It wasn’t a love that you let slip away; it was a what if.

You’re in a room with people who love you and yet, all you can think about is Minho. You miss him so much that it feels like someone has spliced you in two, that it physically makes you ache every second that he isn’t with you. As selfish as it sounds, you want him to walk through the door and you want everything to be okay again. You want to be back in a bubble with just the two of you and a locked box filled with words unsaid. You thought you could stay in that bubble forever, where it was safe and you could pretend that you were happy, and maybe you really were happy with him. But all things — good or bad — must come to an end. The bubble burst, and this was the real world.

You want to undo your cruelty, want him to take back his sincerity. You want an ocean of distance between you and him, you want to pull him as close as humanly possible. All your wants are contradictions. You’re a paradox of puzzle pieces that never seem to fit together.

You want to tell him that it hurts. Want him to make it better because he’s the only one who can make it better.

But miracles rarely happen and there are no shooting stars in sight. Minho was the closest thing you got to a shooting star, burning across your night sky for just a brief moment. Blink and you could miss it. Blink and you did miss him.

Your fingers find his contact in your phone before you could stop yourself, and soon enough, you’re pressing the call button. It’s like drunk dialling, only you aren’t intoxicated. Or maybe you are; maybe you’re under the influence of his absence and how much it stings.

You don’t know why you’re calling him, don’t know what to even say when he picks up.

Thankfully, you don’t have to wonder for long.

“Your call has been forwarded to voicemail. Please leave your message after the tone,” comes the automated voice on the other end.

For some reason, you don’t hang up. You wait for the beep, then you wait some more. It’s not until ten seconds later that you find your voice, the only thing to come out of your mouth is a quiet Hey.

You clear your throat, rub the sweaty palm of your free hand on your dress. “Hey,” you try again. “It’s… me. I’m at the gallery with everyone. Uhm, they’re all waiting for you. Are you on your way? Are you stuck in traffic? Or did you forget it was today? Hyunjin is trying really hard not to blow up your phone–” You pause to chuckle dryly. “But you know it would mean a lot to him to have you here. It… it’d mean a lot to me too if you were here. I don’t know, I assumed you’d come. I’m sorry, that was stupid of me. I just…” Another pause. This time, it’s so that you could take a breath. “Listen, Minho, I didn’t mean what I said to you. I’m sorry I was an asshole. I’m sorry that I hurt you, I don’t have any excuse for that. You deserve better than me. It’s going to pass, you know? I’m sorry if you’ve wasted your time on me, but… you’re going to find someone else, and you’re going to get over it. I’m sorry I fucked everything up. It’s fine if you never want to talk to me again, just please don’t let it get between you and our fr–”

The line beeps again. “To replay the message, press 1. To save the message, press 2. To delete the message, press 3.”

You purse your lips together. There’s still a lump in your throat and no peace to be made. It’s like drunk dialling, only you pull yourself together at the very last second. Your thumb hovers over the dial pad on your phone until you eventually end up on 3, because your cowardice will always triumph in the end. Back to square one. Everything’s still the same as it was five minutes ago.

You force your legs to move, like how you'd force yourself to get up and eat and drink water and shower and be a person these days. When you round the corner, you bump against something solid. A person. The collision isn’t hard enough to knock you backward; they weren’t moving, they’d only been standing still.

You look up at Seungmin, who merely blinks at you. You don’t know how long he’s been here, if he heard anything at all. You swallow once, considering whether you should just play dumb and gauge his reaction or ask point blank if you’ve been caught. He beats you to the decision though.

“You and Minho,” Seungmin says, a bit hesitant, like the topic is weird to bring up. “You’re the girl.”

A deer in headlights, you are. A pathetic one at that, too.

But even then, you’re not panicked, not really. You’re just sad, and the truth was bound to come out eventually. 

“Please don’t tell anyone,” you say.

The discarded voicemail that he overheard, the dejection written all over your face, the silence from both you and Minho recently — it’s obvious to pretty much everyone, and Seungmin is smarter than most.

He opens his mouth and shuts it again like he’s choosing his words. The Seungmin-esque blank stare melting away to make space for some pity, then a question, “Is there anything left to tell?”

You escape to the empty garden in the back where there were a few lonely chairs set up, so you could have some privacy to talk. Despite everything, it feels like you’ve got a little breathing space, just being able to share this with someone. To not have to carry it all on your own. You’re glad that it was Seungmin who found out first. You have a feeling that he would understand, at least to some degree. You’re relieved, even when the first question that he asks is, “So, how did you fuck it up?”

“Why do you just automatically assume it was me?” You’re mildly offended, even though he’s right.

“Between you and Minho, I’d bet on you.” Seungmin shrugs. “You spook easily.”

“I deeply resent that notion.”

He turns to look at you, no trace of any teasing. “Can you prove me wrong?”

But you can’t, and it tells him as much when you avert his eyes in favor of the ground, where you kick at a lonesome pebble sitting among the grass. It lands somewhere between the green blades, lost in the shadows that cast over parts of the garden that are poorly lit.

“So what happened?” he asks, turning away again to stare out at the empty space. You like to think of it as him giving you some elbow room, to ease the pressure of being scrutinized. And as much as you appreciate it, it still takes you another brief moment before you can formulate a coherent sentence, another minute of twiddling your fingers in your lap.

You tell Seungmin about your first night with Minho – not the details, of course; that would be weird and it’s none of his business. Just that it happened, how you both let it keep happening over the past few months while nobody suspected a thing.

Seungmin nods solemnly, like he’s putting together the missing pieces.

“Did you ever notice anything?” you ask.

“I mean… not about you hooking up, but we thought you’d end up together eventually.” He shrugs. “We always kinda assumed that you two would become those people who make a pact to get married if you’re still single by 40 or 50, if you didn’t get together before then. It makes sense. You and Minho just sort of make sense.”

“Oh,” you say. Your heart swoops. Hearing it from Seungmin makes you sad. Not the same brand of sadness that you’ve been wearing lately though. A different kind, the kind of sadness that’s a little numbing and makes it difficult to breathe. “Well, sorry to disappoint everyone but I don’t think any of it is gonna happen anymore.”

“So… how did it happen?” Seungmin asks again, mimicking explosions with his hands.

You let him off easy without a punch in the shoulder, because you just really don’t have the energy for it right now. “Minho wanted something more,” you tell your friend, fiddling with the rings on your fingers, then with the necklace charm resting on your collarbone. “And I just… I don’t know. I guess I freaked. I… said some awful stuff to him.”

Seungmin hums a sound of acknowledgement. He looks like he’s thinking about it, about you and Minho and what it means. “Classic,” he chuckles after a brief moment, mostly to himself. Maybe he’s thinking about what it means beyond just the pair of you too.

You side-eye him. “You’d know all about it, wouldn’t you?”

He shoots the glance back at you. “What are you trying to say here?”

You remember her, the only girl that Seungmin has ever hinted at liking. He never admitted it out loud to any of you, but you could all see it.

You only used to see her in passing at house parties, and even then, it wasn’t Seungmin nor her who brought the other one around. They would show up separately with their own group, mingle for a while, find each other after a couple of drinks before they disappeared to god-knows-where for the rest of the night. Sometimes, Changbin or Hyunjin would catch them before they could sneak off and insist that Seungmin let everyone get to know his friend.

These brief interactions are all you have with her, meaningless small talk for a few minutes before Seungmin’s patience ran thin and he whisked her away like they’d both intended. You liked her; she was nice, and she was really pretty. You liked her even though you didn’t know her, because she was the one person who Seungmin cared about enough to keep away from prying eyes. A secret shared only between the two of them, a bubble in which only they existed.

The last time you saw her with him must’ve been at least three months ago, maybe even longer. No one really knows what happened, just that she stopped showing up to parties, and Seungmin never brought it up again. You all assumed whatever he had going on with her had run its course, though it doesn’t really stop Hyunjin and Jisung from mentioning her every now and again just to tease him.

“I seem to recall a Halloween party last year and a certain someone was in a bee costume and–”

“Fine,” Seungmin interjects, rolling his eyes. “Fine, we can form our own dumbass club. Happy?”

You laugh a little, even though the whole thing isn’t very funny. Your shared experience is nothing to take pride in.

“So how did you blow it up?” you ask.

He gives you a sour glare before his eyes soften. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and in his silence you find that you and him are more similar in ways that you’ve never cared enough to admit before. This sadness that you carry, you have a feeling that he knows it all too well.

“Like I said, classic,” Seungmin tells you. “She wanted something more. I freaked. I ghosted her.”

A mirror. Two sides of the same stupid coin.

You lean back against your seat. “Did you like her?”

It takes a beat, but his answer comes out as an honest, “Yeah, I liked her. Liked her too much.”

“Why did you do that to her then?”

“Why did you do that to Minho?” Seungmin deadpans, but he doesn’t seem to want a response from you. He just sighs, wistfully adding, “I’ve thought about it a lot. It’s scary to be wanted because it means someone’s putting you on a pedestal, and when you’re on a pedestal, the more it’ll hurt if you fall off. The more they’re counting on you to not let them down, the easier it is to fuck it all up. People like us, we’re flight risks. We can’t help it. We think it’s better to just leave before we can do any real damage. When you said whatever terrible shit you said to Minho, that was the first thing you thought about, right? To be cruel? That’s what I did too. Such a fucking stupid knee-jerk reaction.”

You don’t know how to respond, so you just sit there, completely still. 

Then Seungmin turns to you, and for the first time in all the years that you’ve known him, he’s looking at you, really looking at you. No snarky side-eye, no playful faux glare. Just a strange and unfamiliar sincerity, like he’s asking you to fix what he couldn’t, undo the cruelty that he never bothered apologizing for.

“Minho would understand, you know? If you’d just talk to him,” Seungmin says. “You made a mistake in the heat of the moment. But you want to have something real with him, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t be here talking to me about this and beating yourself up over it.”

“I told you. That ship sailed.” And you’re standing up for no apparent reason other than the fact that you’re suddenly restless, your stomach twisting in knots out of nowhere. “He’s not even here. He didn’t even show up tonight. I think that’s saying enough.”

Your friend rises to his feet too, probably because he thinks it’s weird to be the only one sitting now while you’re upset and pacing about. It’s not until Seungmin takes a step closer that you realize you’re shaking a little.

“Hey, you good?” He puts a hand on your shoulder. “I talked to Minho yesterday. He said he’d come. Maybe something came up or he just–”

Hyunjin’s voice interrupts Seungmin in the middle of his sentence, the excited squeal carrying itself from all the way inside the gallery to the back garden through the door left ajar. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, maybe there’s a reason why people say it. It’s laughable, really.

You and Seungmin both turn your attention to the brief commotion indoors, where you see Hyunjin smiling so big that his eyes have crinkled into crescent moons, where he’s standing with his arm thrown around Minho and shaking him by the shoulders.

These days, it’s easy to pretend that time is standing still. You don’t even know if time is even passing at all; you’re just looking at him, dressed in a black blazer and some dress pants. Casual but he looks good. He always does.

You watch as he says something to Hyunjin that seems to calm the latter down a bit, at least enough for Minho to quickly scan the room, searching. You watch as his eyes sweep through all the people gathered inside, not stopping until they land on you, finding you on the other side of the glass door. Even in this terrible lighting, not entirely visible you assume, he sees you.

There was a conversation you had with Minho some time ago, when you two were sprawled out on your couch munching on strawberry Peperos and not paying attention to the movie that was playing on your TV, when he asked how you wanted your life to be at 40.

You knew what the boring answer was – you wanted your life to be stable, and you told him as much. Isn’t stability always the goal? Maybe a lame corporate job if the whole starving-artist-who-makes-it-big-overnight dream didn’t pan out. A cat and a dog named Mochi and Mocha, if you could afford two pets at once. An apartment that you owned, with framed pictures of everything you loved scattered all over the place, and stupidly cute fairy lights that you often see on Pinterest, and an unfathomable amount of plushies that your inner child was never indulged in. A peaceful and quiet life, at least to some extent. 

The honest answer, the one that you didn’t tell him, was you wanted to not live with regret.

But as you lock eyes with him, for a split second there, you know that you will.

About twenty years down the line, when you look back on your life and think of this chapter, you’ll think about a boy who loved you and whom you loved. How you broke both of your hearts trying to protect your own. You’ll wonder if he’s married, if he has kids, if he still reminisces about the girl he used to love when he was young. If he’s happy and if his dreams came true. If the sadness you caused yourself was worth it, if the pain meant anything at all. If you could go back in time and undo everything, would you?

You’ll get over it eventually – surely you will; heartbreak isn’t the end of the world – but you’ll live with the grief of what could’ve been if you weren’t afraid. You’ll be left to mourn the road not taken, your almost but never was. 

You’re the one who moves first, when it starts to become a struggle just to breathe. You stumble away from Minho’s line of sight, until you find a wall that you can rest against.

Seungmin is quick to follow. “Hey, woah, are you okay?”

Your hands alternate between balling themselves into tight fists and attempting in vain to grab at the flat surface of the concrete. There are no words that you can form to answer him. Only your ragged breathing and your pathetic effort to take in some air through your mouth.

“Okay, shit, uhm,” Seungmin sputters. “Hang on.”

Then he’s taking off. You don’t know how long he’s gone for, where he’s gone off to, and frankly, you can’t really bring yourself to care. Your hands abandon the wall in favor of your dress, something that you can actually hold onto. Your trembling fingers clutch the hem of your dress like they’re pretending it’s a lifeline, bunching and twisting the fabric in your sweaty palms. Hoping it’ll help, but it doesn’t at all.

Even over the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears, you could hear new footsteps coming out into the empty garden. Rushed at first, then they stop for a brief moment. You know who it is before he even approaches you.

Damn that Kim Seungmin.

The familiar scent of his cologne greets you before his voice. You spent hours and hours enveloped in this scent until it was dulled by sweat from the activities you were engaged in, if it wasn’t already softened by the kisses you would leave all over his skin.

When he calls your name, it comes out so soft, like you never broke his heart in the first place and that night was only a figment of your twisted imagination. He sounds so gentle, yet it sends you further down the crippling spiral. You don’t deserve him; maybe you never did, despite what Seungmin tried to put through your head earlier.

“I’m fine.” But you know your appearance has already betrayed your words. The first thing you say to him in weeks, and it’s a lie. You’re still leaning against the wall with your arms wrapped tightly around your trembling frame and your eyes squeezed shut. It’s a pitiful sight. Even more so when it registers in your brain that it’s Minho of all people who’s witnessing it. 

He doesn’t say anything else, only lets out a sigh, and then his hand is on your body, a warm palm touching the small of your back out of habit before he moves it upward to rub between your shoulder blades. “Can you breathe?”

His question makes you all too aware that there’s something gnawing inside of your chest, makes you think for a second there that you’re going to die though you know that you won’t. You shake your head with your eyes still closed, your breathing coming out more ragged by the second. You can’t even bear to look at him and absorb the worry in his eyes; you’re sure you’ll only cry if you do, and it’s the last thing you need right now.

But it turns out that seeing Minho’s face isn’t the only thing that can bring you to tears. When you feel him tug at your arms, his warmth on your bare skin, you start crying anyway and that makes it even harder to breathe. There’s not a single ounce of resistance in your body, your limbs obeying him easily when they untangle themselves around your waist to fall by your sides as he pulls you into his chest, with one hand over your sternum and his thumb rubbing back and forth. He’s careful about it too, like he’s handling broken pieces of something that used to be beautiful.

“You’re okay,” he says, but you’ve got your face pressed into the crook of his neck and your tears are staining the collar of his shirt. “You’re gonna be fine. Just… listen to me.”

You stay quiet, waiting for him to speak next.

“Name three things you can see,” he says. “You don’t have to say it out loud. Just think about it.”

You open your eyes finally, angling your head until most of your vision isn’t obstructed by the proximity of his body. Minho tightens his arm around you, and you blink away some of the tears.

Your black heels that your mom got you for your birthday a while ago.

The grass, darkened green and damp.

Him. 

“Three things you can hear.”

Light chatter coming from inside the gallery.

Cars passing by on the adjacent street.

Him, the sound of his breathing.

“Three things you can touch.”

The soft material of your dress against your skin.

The bracelet, hugging your wrist, weighing you down like an anchor.

And… him.

Him, him, him.

You don’t know what reason Minho makes up to excuse you for the rest of night, but you don’t bother asking. There’s really no space left in your head to think about it twice, to care about leaving your friends or feel guilty about Hyunjin because he was so excited about today. It’s too much; all you want is to go home, get away from here.

Minho calls you both an Uber back to your place. During the entire ride, he doesn’t say a word and neither do you. And even though you mostly opt for looking out the window at the other cars and houses and people passing by, every now and then you could feel his eyes on you from the other side of the backseat.

When you arrive, he keeps a hand on the small of your back as you make your way up the stairs. When you unlock the door, you leave it open so he could follow you inside. You suppose that one is a force of habit. You’re not used to shutting the door in his face. At least, not in the literal sense anyway.

Then it returns, that gnawing feeling. A feeling far too colossal for your body to house. It sits somewhere inside your ribcage, sharp and desperate, with claws trying to dig its way out. And for the first time in maybe ever, you understand what it truly means to want something this badly. You love him, and it hurts. You love him even though it hurts.

Minho moves around the place while you remain frozen in the middle of your own apartment, as if he’s the one who lives here and you’re just visiting for the night. You let him take off your makeup (with a wipe; you’re going to hate yourself in the morning), let him help you change into clothes that you can sleep in, even let him tuck you into bed like you’re a helpless child. If he notices the bracelet on you, he doesn’t say anything. Everything is done in silence.

You don’t look him in the eye. You don’t think you can handle what you’ll find there.

But you do reach for his hand when he tries to leave now that there’s nothing left for him to do here. There’s not a single thought behind your action, just a need to have him near.

“Can you…?” 

You aren’t brave enough to finish the question, your voice trailing off and the words dissipating like smoke after a lonely cigarette drag. You’re being selfish right now, you’re awfully aware of this.

Minho doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even let out a single sigh. For a second there, you think he’s about to leave you here, cold and alone, just like you had done to him. It would be nothing less than what you deserve.

But then he’s shrugging off his blazer and your heart is in your throat. When he slips into bed beside you, something hurts, the kind of ache that spreads all across your chest and makes your lungs burn.

Earlier tonight, he could’ve walked away and let you be somebody else’s burden. Your friends were all there, it’s not like they would’ve left you stranded.

You’re not really sure what to think. It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t hate you, but maybe it’s just enough confirmation that he doesn’t hate you more than he loves you.

You break the deafening stretch of silence with a whisper, “I’m sorry.” You don’t know what the apology is for. Are you sorry for that night, for the things you said to him? Are you sorry that you’re only yourself, that he just had to go ahead and fall for you of all people? Sorry that you’re too much of a coward and a lost cause to love him right? You don’t know, but it feels appropriate to apologize. You owe him that much.

“Don’t…” Minho says after a while. “You don’t have to do that.”

The familiar sensation returns – the one that stings the back of your eyes, burns your nostrils and makes you all choked up. You try to hold your breath and will it away, but the first tear spills without your permission, and you can’t help the shaky inhale – close to a gasp and followed by a sniffle – that punctuates your lungs when they start protesting against the sudden lack of oxygen. 

You grip the sheets so hard you think you could rip through the fabric and dig into your own palm. It’s a pathetic feeling, like a strange kind of embarrassment that you can’t quite describe. The room is deadly quiet; you know there’s no way he didn’t catch the noise.

You hear Minho shift from where he lays behind you, some rustling when he moves against the duvet and the mattress. “Don’t cry,” he sighs. And it’s still so gentle. You’ve never known him to be anything but gentle.

You bite the inside of your cheek, blinking some of the tears away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just… don’t cry.” It sounds like he’s holding something back but you aren’t sure. “Don’t cry. Go to sleep. We can talk in the morning, if you want.”

You sniffle some more, and maybe that makes Minho think he still needs to appease you even further. He reaches out finally, to brush a comforting hand against your arm. “Go to sleep. Promise I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You don’t know if you want to talk in the morning, because there’s nothing for you to say. All you really have is what he’s already heard – I’m sorry, like an utterly broken record. But you want him to stay even if it’s only for the morning. Even if all he’ll get is silence at best and choked up breaths at worst. Your last-ditch attempt at grasping straws, a futile effort to chase running water.

“Okay,” you tell him, and neither of you says anything afterward. The tears keep falling for a while, and at some point it tires you out enough to slip into a dreamless sleep.

When you open your eyes hours later, the sun is already up. The clock on your phone reads 7:06AM and the first thing you register is an uncomfortable dryness in your throat. Behind you, the bed is still warm. You can actually feel it underneath your fingertips when you reach out, the warmth dwindling from the side of the bed that’s been left vacant. Minho has never broken a promise to you before.

He’s gone, and you sink again.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 08.01.2025]

[tanadrin]

I am sorry for the anon but I feel too vulnerable to come off due to the nature of my question.

I am slowly losing friends due to my refusal to engage in negative/nihilistic/doomer views of the future. My friends are 1000% convinced Trump and Republicans are going to crash the economy on purpose, leading to a depression, and carry out a Gilead situation. I told one of my friends the other day how, despite everything and the political situation, I am trying to be as positive as possible - or at least neutral. Her response to me was, "Why? I don't understand your optimism. You know they're going to enslave us all like in The Handmaid's Tale, right?" and it has become so dreadful now to interact with them. Anytime I disagree, they try to intellectually dominate me or put me under them in a way where I have no choice but to just leave the conversation.

I know this was a lot. But is there any advice you might have for someone like me? Because I sometimes feel like I am being painted as crazy. I know things will be hard but they genuinely want me to believe I have no future and I can't stand that.

Also, would it be too much to ask if you maybe mind sharing some of the other people/blogs you follow?

I once heard advice on dealing with Qanon family members who had fallen down the rabbit hole and only ever wanted to talk about conspiracy theories or the outrage bait they'd seen on Fox News or OANN or whatever, about not challenging them on their views but basically saying "I don't want to talk about this; let's talk about our plans for the weekend, or what movie we wanna go see later, or what interesting books you've read lately." The idea being, arguing with someone can only further entrench their beliefs, and if you really want to shake someone out of their dismal universe of conspiracism, it helps to remind them of all the things that aren't the fear-and-anger-activating content they're stuffing their brains with for hours every day.

Maybe something like this could help? I have a hard time imagining that someone really believes The Handmaid's Tale really is just around the corner--if you really believed that, surely you would be trying to flee to Canada or doing some political volunteer work or something--and sometimes doomer stuff can be kind of reflexive or phatic, like making a crack about how your retirement plan is to die in the water wars or something. But even if it isn't, I don't think there's any point in trying to argue about this stuff in the moment. Instead try to build on the things you still find fulfilling in that friendship, the conversations and interests and activities with those friends that caused you to become friends in the first place.

If you can't do that--if hanging out with them is always a constant grind of full-throttle doomerism, and they express no interest in actually trying to do something with their feelings of anger and frustration--you are perfectly within your rights to spend less time around them. You could, if you wanted to and you felt that you owed them at least that, give them a heads up as to why. If a close friend of mine or a family member was doing this, I would certainly talk to them about it. But your obligation to subject yourself to someone else's self-destructive idee fixe is not bottomless. Even with a partner you are within your rights to eventually say "I'm not going to talk about this with you anymore."

(And that's not only true of politics or conspiracy theories, by the way! If you have a close friend or family member or partner who--for example--has severe depression but refuses to seek treatment for it, you are not obligated to be the sponge for their misery forever every time they need someone to talk to. If someone in your life is in a relationship or a job that is making them miserable, and won't do anything to leave that relationship or find a new job, and just wants a friend to complain to, you are within your rights to eventually shut that down. Lots of people fall into a holding pattern in their life where they are unhappy but unable to do anything about it, and they will make this their friends' or loved ones' problem. That doesn't make them bad people: lord knows I have found myself doing this before. It's a very human thing to do. But sometimes the Good Friend Thing is to say "I love you, and will support you if you want to actually *do something* about your situation, but otherwise, oh my god shut the fuck up." But, you know, nicely.)

But if your friends want to make themselves miserable because hanging on to an endless stream of toxicity and doomerism from social media (and I will bet this is primarily coming from social media) is more important to them than your friendship, and they can't handle you not agreeing with them, you may lose them as friends. If you do, I'm sorry. That sucks. It's hard to lose friends, and it's even harder later in life when making new friends is more difficult, and I don't want to pretend like that's not a big deal.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 54

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,355ish

Summary: You and Logan struggle interacting with each other.

Notes: Please share reactions! Please remember to review the timeline posted here.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

Your healing factor decided to kick into high gear while you were sleeping, which you were grateful for. Your hands were scarred now, but that didn’t matter as long as the burns were gone. Though you knew that it would probably happen again. You worked again today, but not until later, so you decided to go out and run a few errands. As you were locking up the apartment, you heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall. Looking over, you saw Logan with his head down and hands stuffed in his pockets. Having felt someone staring, he looked up and stopped. The two of you just stared at each other for a moment before you decided to speak up.

“Hi,” your voice was quiet, nervous. 

“Hey,” he responded, voice low. “You, uh, you heading to work?”

“Not yet,” you shook your head. “I’m off to run some errands.” Logan nodded. “Where are you coming back from?”

“A walk… needed to clear my head and smoke a cigar in peace.”

Your lips turned up at his words. “I get it.” You walked his way, stopping as you reached his side. “Well, I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah… see you.”

You continued heading down the hallway. You were almost to the stairs when you heard Logan again.

“Hey, Y/N, wait.” You turned around to see him coming towards you. He stopped a few feet away from you. “Mind if I tag along?”

His words took you by surprise and, in all honesty, a part of you wanted to say no. You didn’t know if you could handle running errands with the man who shared your husbands face. But then you looked at him. You could see the nervousness and the war behind his eyes. Logan was struggling too.

“I don’t mind,” you said quietly. “I could… use the company.”

You wanted as Logan’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. After a moment, he moved to where you were and allowed you to led him down the stairs and out to the street. The two of you walked in silence, enough space away from one another to prevent from bumping into each other. 

You headed into the first store and grabbed a cart. Logan walked off to the side, grabbing the items you asked him to. It quickly became a comfortable routine from this store to the next. Logan carried your bought items around with ease. After the two stores, you decided that you were done for now and the two of you headed back to the apartment complex. 

“You can place everything on the table,” you told Logan as you opened the door to your apartment. “I’ll put everything away.”

“I can help,” Logan said, heading to the table.

“You’ve already helped. I’m sure that you—“

“Please.”

Your head tilted in curiosity at the tone Logan used. He was practically begging for you to let him help. He turned around and looked at you, eyes shining with something you were very familiar with seeing. Guilt. Something in Logan’s mind was eating away at him and he was trying to do something to take his mind off of it.

“Okay,” you whispered.

The two of you began working together to put items away.

“Where’s Laura?” Logan wondered, having not seen her yet today.

“She’s at a high school down the street. I signed her up for summer classes so that she could finish high school.”

Logan nodded. “That will be good for her. She interested in college?”

“She was, before we were sent to The Void. It hasn’t been a conversation that we’ve had since. I won’t force her into anything. I just want her to be happy. She’ll most likely have her father’s ability to live long, so a long and happy—a fulfilled life is all I want for her. Whatever that may look like.”

“You are a good mother.”

The compliment had you lose your breath for a moment. Once you gathered yourself, you turned away from Logan and focused back on the task. The two of you put the rest of the items away in silence. When everything was put away, Logan stuffed his hands back in his pockets and you finally fully faced him.

“Thanks for all your help,” you said, your lips pulling to a small smile.

“Anytime,” he responded with a nod. He turned to leave.

“Would you… I can make lunch.”

Logan stopped and looked back. “You don’t have to.”

“I think you deserve it after I made you carry everything around for me. Come. Sit.”

He fully turned around. “I can help. Put me to work.”

You shook your head. “No. But maybe I’ll let you do dishes when we’re done.”

“Deal.”

Logan sat down at the table as you got to work in the kitchen. His eyes carefully watched your every moment, lingering on your hands ever so often to check on them and to catch the sight of the wedding ring still on your finger.

“How are your hands?” Logan eventually broke the silence.

You paused, glancing at them. “They’re fine.”

“From, uh… From what I’ve picked up, I thought that you were only in pain when you’ve used your powers. Are you still in pain from The Void? Or was it something else?”

“Something else… I… I don’t really want to talk about it.” Logan let out an understanding grunt as he nodded. “How have you been handling all this? I think that everyone knows it’s not easy for me, but… this has to be really hard for you.”

“Yeah, it’s strange… I’m trying to make the most of it. I… well, you heard, I turned my whole world on the X-Men. I… I failed my friends… my family. And I killed many people… This is a fresh start. I don’t want to mess it up.”

“Well, I think you’re off to a good start, if that means anything.”

“It does… thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” you shot him a smile. “Are you planning on getting a job?”

“I want to, just to keep my mind busy, but it’ll be hard… The Wolverine is, uh, popular.”

“I’m sure you’ll fine something… I can help if you want.”

“I’ll let you know if I need any.”

You nodded and brought two plates over to the table. “Lunch is served.”

“Looks great. Thanks, princess.”

Princess. Now that was a nickname you hadn’t heard in a lot time. It had your mind reeling. Reliving all the times your Logan had called you that. Your hands began trembling as your lungs felt tight, like you couldn’t breathe. Logan immediately noticed the sudden change in you.

“Y/N?” He called. “Are you alright?” He reached for you but you stumbled back, your breaths coming out in labored pants. 

“I— He—You—“ You couldn’t complete a thought without your breathing getting in the way.

It suddenly clicked. Your husband—Your Logan had called you that. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I overstepped. It just slipped out.” 

Logan stood up and held out his arms like he was calming a timid animal. Your hands were growing hotter, making the whole scenario worse. Logan could see small trails of smoke begin to come from your hands. 

“Y/N, tell me what I can do to help,” he pled. 

“I’m—fine,” you clearly lied.

Logan shook his head. “Tell me what you need.”

“I… Leave… Just… go…”

“Y/N, I can’t—“

“Please! Go!”

Logan stood there and watched as you used the wall to support yourself as you headed down the hall. He didn’t miss the burn marks your hands left on the walls as he watched you disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind you. Logan sighed, shoulders sagging. He couldn’t leave you like this, at least not with your kitchen like this. Logan found food storage containers and placed the lunch in them before placing the containers in the fridge and quickly cleaning up the kitchen. He headed for the door, pausing to look back at the hallway before slipping out.

~~~

You ignored the pain in your gloved hands as you worked. Even sneaking in a few drinks to try to dull the pain and the memory of what happened. You were so embarrassed that a simple nickname sent you into an anxiety attack. After all this time since your husband’s death, you thought that you were more healed than this. But these last few weeks have proven otherwise.

“Buttercup!” Wade yelled across the bar as he entered. He sauntered over to where you were, sitting on a barstool across from you.

“Wade,” you greeted, remaining neutral. “What brings you in?”

“Can’t I visit my favorite fire starter at work?”

“Ssh!! Wade. No one can know. Remember?”

He held his hands up. “Alright. Grumpy. What’s got you all wound up? It’s it the lack of a sex life? Have you not had sex since your husband? How was that by the way? Did you have to do all the work since he was so old?”

“Just shut up, Wade! I’m trying to work.”

He reached over the bar and grabbed your wrist before you could walk away. “Hey. I’m sorry. Seriously. I came to check on you. Apparently it’s something I do now, Savior Of The Universe and all.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, not really buying it. Especially when Logan came back from your place in a mood. He’s finished all the alcohol in the apartment and trust me, Blind Al had a lot of hiding spots that even I couldn’t find. And then there was the fact that Little Wolf came home and freaked when she saw the burn marks on the walls.”

You sighed. “I have a break in ten minutes. Just wait for me in the booth over there.”

~~~

You rolled the beer bottle around on the table, eyes focused on it. Wade sat across from you, watching you silently like he might be able to read your mind.

“It’s not his fault,” you whispered. “I know Logan is feeling guilty. I know it because they’re so similar… He called me a name that Logan—that my husband used to call me. It triggered me. I know he meant nothing by it, but my mind freaked… My powers…” your eyes fell to the gloves. “I’m losing control over them and the pain is getting worse… I shouldn’t have kicked him out the way I did, but I couldn’t help it.”

Wade sighed, pushing down a majority of the inappropriate comments. He could tell that a lot was weighing on you. “Honestly, I probably would have completely combusted.” You laughed, causing Wade to smile. “Logan will get over it. Peanut has his own shit that he’s dealing with while you’re dealing with yours.”

“I owe him an apology.”

Wade scoffed, waving his hand around before taking a sip of his own beer. “Trust me. I’ve read enough Emberine fanfics to know that you never need to apologize to him. No matter where your relationship is at.”

“You weren’t joking when you said you were my biggest fan.”

“I would never lie about something like that, Buttercup. Oh! Maybe when you get home, we can cuddle up and I can read the latest one I found. It’s called, Love That Burns, and a lot of it is eerily familiar to your story. Besides the ending. You died and then Logan went back in time and—“

“Maybe another time. Thanks for coming, Wade.”

“Big Brother Wade to the rescue.”

“I’m a lot older than you.”

He waved you off. “Tis just a number, Buttercup.”

~~~

You were exhausted by the time your shift was over and you got back to your apartment. When you entered, Laura was sitting on the couch working on homework. Her head immediately snapped up to look at you.

“Hey,” you greeted with a small smile, coming over to collapse beside her. “How was school?”

“Fine,” she responded with a huff. “Already have homework.”

“Need any help?”

“Do you?”

You sighed. “Laura—“

“I came home to burn marks on the wall. Do you know how scary that is? I thought… Well, I thought… the worst.”

“Oh, kiddo, I’m so sorry.” You reached over to her but she flinched away, breaking your head. “Laura—“

“I’m just going to go to my room.” She stood quickly gathering all her stuff.

“Laura, please.”

“I’ll see you in the morning. Good night, mom.”

You sighed as she disappeared into her room. You were really killing it today. Leaning forward, your head fell into your hands. You have no idea how long you were like that before there was a knock at the door. Cautious because it was so late, you peeked through the peep whole to see Logan standing there. You could tell that he was nervous and weighed down, emotionally and mentally. You opened the door, causing Logan to breathe a small sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry,” you both said at the same time. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you quickly said before Logan could speak up. 

“But I do. The nickname just slipped.”

“You couldn’t know that it would trigger me. Hell, I didn’t until it did. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have kicked you out the way I did.”

“I deserved it.”

You chuckled. “We are not going to agree on this, are we?”

“Nope… I’m sorry again. Goodnight, Y/N.” He turned away and headed towards his apartment.

“Hey, Logan,” you called. He paused, turning to face you. “Can we have a redo of lunch tomorrow? I still owe you for carrying everything today.”

He nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“Great. Goodnight, Logan. And don’t be too hard on yourself.”

You shut the door, leaving Logan in the hallway feeling exposed. Of course you knew that he was eating himself alive. You had married this universe’s version of him. You basically knew him already, yet his universe’s version of you and this version were different in so many ways that he felt you had an unfair advantage over him. But he would allow this to take its time. The strongest friendships always do.

next chapter >

[lovelypastelsweets]

♡Onychinus' Kitten♡[Part #3:]

Sylus Qin X female!Cat-Hybrid!Reader

{Notes:}

This is my first fan-fiction, if you have any tip/suggestions please let me know!In this story, the 'reader' is NOT the MC, and is female(I don't have an issue with males reading, but I don't know anything about guys, and I want to be authentic. If you'd like a male-reader fan-fic please collaborate with me to deepen my understanding of the male-mind)

{Trigger-warnings:}

This story will contain minor death(of random side characters), mention human-trafficking(not in-detail), being choked until losing consciousness(Described based on my IRL memory of being in a similar situation), the experimentation of humans-subjects, and it may a mention past-trauma that includes sexual-abuse, I haven't decided. But I have PTSD related to sexual-abuse, and I don't want to trigger myself, so if I do include that detail, it will be non-descriptive.

Surrounded by a comfortable warmth, you feel the slight buzzing-feeling of conousness. You gently stir-

[BANG!]

The sound of screams and a loud bang take away that peace at once, replacingitwith terror. You jolt into a sitting position.

[BANG!]

Your heartbeat immediately Increases to a deafening level. Your breathe becomes shallow in an instant as panic rushes through your vains.

Defenseless bodies scurring to the back of the metal incloseers that contained them- the sound of screams that sound like echos in your head- "Why are you doing this!?" A stuttered-statment that barely leaves the mouth of a boy before another "[BANG!]" Is heard.

The chaos around sounds like a distance, muffled dream to you; Your body stays frozen with fear, and the only thought in your mind is 'escape the danger'. You can't see anything. Are your eyes closed? You don't even know, reality is hazy. Your heartbeat so is so loud, too loud-

[BANG!]

"Please! P-please! Don-" a plead that would never have an ending leaves the mouth of a young girl before yet another "[BANG!]" Was heard.

Footsteps. They stop before the front of the enclosure you inhabit, a scientist who you can't recognize through the tears in your eyes, and the sound of your heart. A gun-muzzle aiming at your face-

[BANG!]

"Uhha-guh- ah-eeh! D-damnn yo-u S-!"

The sound of someone struggling along with a curse of someone's name ended with a groaned-scream.

Silence.

Nothing but silence.

You look up to see a tall, unknown man with light, silver hair, and crimson-red eyes, holding the gun the scientist had. Noticing you, he begin to close the distance between you and him. As he walk closer you pressed your body even more against the back-wall of your enclosure as if you could pass through it; Pressing your knees even closer to your chest, while your hands patted and clenched the back wall.

The man stopped and if front of you.

Y/N: "S-s-stay back-k.. Don't.... Please.."

The man only continues to silently analyze you as your weak, whispered threat leaves your trembling lips that are now wet with tears. At the man's lack of a reaction to your threat, and being expectant to receive a bullet in suite of your friends, you merely bury your head into your knees.

"Look at me."

A deep, rumbling voice orders. The sudden statement causes you to jump a little, but you only bury your head further into your knees as a response.Unbeknownst to you, the man before you didn't expect you to comply in your current state. Red and black mist gently lefts you, bringing you closer to the man. You didn't notice until-

Sylus: "I told you to look at me."

The man's voice is suddenly right in front of you. You jolt, your head shooting upwards.

Y/N: "Ahh! A-ah, ah-!"

You try to scramble away, but to no avail. You begin to scream, but before much can be vocalized, the man covers your mouth with his hand. His other hand cups your throat and begins squeeze. Your hands clasp his wrists, even as you tighten your grip and begin to claw, he doesn't falter.

Your head feels fuzzy, and light- or maybe you can't feel your head- maybe your head is the only thing you can feel- the world is a blur- the sound of your heartbeat is the only one you can hear- everything is being envelope into darkness-

As your conousness fades, you don't see the don't notice the glint of concern in the man's eyes..

♡[To Be Continued]♡

{Notes:}

Eeeee!!!!!!!!!! I didn't expect so many people to like this!! 😖🥺 Thank you guys so much! 🙏🏻🫶🏻Things in this part of the story are complicated, but that was to add to the dramatic feeling of it all. Things will be cleared up in the next part.💕

[stars4noah]

HALLEY'S COMET- four.

{WARNINGS}: arguing, drinking, kissing (i think that's all??)

w.c- 2,760

a.n- this chapter takes a WILD turn towards the end. i'm super excited for how you guys like it!

{TAGLIST}: @lacy1986 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @chey-h @rumoured-whispers @oobleoob @dontwantthemoney @n0n3xsisting

his lips against mine felt like heaven. it felt like my whole life was complete when i kissed him, when i felt him. he felt like home. something i hadn't known in a long time. i pulled away, breathing slightly heavy as i looked into his chocolate brown eyes.

"noah.." i whispered.

he smiled softly and hummed.

"i fucking love you."

"mm.. [y/n]." he mumbled against my lips.

"princess."

"[Y/N]!"

i woke up with a soft groan, my eyes fluttering open. i looked around, my vision slightly blurry as i tried to assess who the hell was calling my name.

"jesus christ, fucking finally." folio huffed. "do you know where noah is?"

"what? he was just-" i looked up from where i was laying, seeing an empty spot beside me. i furrowed my brows.

"he was here. we fell asleep watching naruto." i said.

"right, well he isn't anymore. we had a rehearsal today and he's not here. no note, no text, and his location is off.''

just like last time.

overcome with sudden anger, i got up and threw the blanket off of me, grabbing my bag. i knew this was a mistake. i knew i never should've let that fucker back in my life. i really thought he would change. how stupid.

"woah, kid, where are you going?" folio asked, confused by my haste.

"i'm fucking leaving. tell noah he can leave me the hell alone. i did this once, i am not doing it again." i snapped as i left the studio, getting in my car and speeding off.

NOAH'S POV.

[y/n] had fallen asleep in the middle of us watching naruto last night. i didn't have the heart to wake her up or move her, so i gave her a soft kiss on the forehead and went home. she wouldn't mind, right?

i was at my computer in my room, streaming some games when my phone went off next to me. i furrowed my brows and leaned back in my chair, noticing a very long message from folio.

folio: where the fuck were you today, dude? we had rehearsal to record some shit and you weren't there. not to mention when i woke [y/n] up from the couch to ask where the hell you were, she stormed out and looked extremely pissed and told me to tell you to leave her the hell alone. i don't know what the fuck happened, but you need to fix it. fast. we just got her back, we can't lose her again.

i cursed, quickly ending the stream and pulling on a hoodie and some shoes, running out to my car and speeding off to [y/n]'s house. yeah, she told me to 'leave her the hell alone,' but there's no way in hell i'm doing that. not again. not after i just got her back.

i ran up to the front door, banging on it harshly. she opened it, and when she saw my face, immediately went to go close it again.

READER'S POV.

just when i had started recovering from everything, him leaving me again made me fall back into that pit of despair. multiple bottles laid out in front of me, and i just stared at the wall. until there was a loud banging on my front door.

"damn, where's the fire?" i muttered. as i got off the couch to go open the door, only to be met with the one face i didn't want to see at the moment.

i huffed, moving to close the door again without a word, but he pushed it open.

"no, i'm not letting you shut me out like last time." he said, walking inside.

"noah, go away. you've already made it clear you don't want me in your life. why do you keep coming back if all you're going to do is leave again?"

he looked at me. "that's what this is all about? because i left the studio while you were sleeping?"

"yes! you left. no note, no text, and your fucking location was off!"

noah scoffed. "you're acting like an obsessive girlfriend."

i raised my eyebrows. "really? obsessive girlfriend because i get hurt when you leave with no word? news flash, noah, it's called being worried! i trusted you not to leave. i thought after everything that happened yesterday, we could move on and be friends, but you just up and left without a word! now i don't give a shit about any of your excuses. this is the second time you've done this shit, and i'm done. done!" i yelled

noah, stood there, stunned. "princess, i-"

"don't fucking call me that! i don't want to see you, i don't want to hear you, i don't want to be near you. just fucking leave me alone!" i yelled, tears streaming down my face.

"jesus christ, [y/n], would you fucking listen for five seconds!?" he snapped.

i clenched my jaw. "what, noah? what could you possibly have to say that is so important in this moment?"

he sighed, sitting down and running his hands through his long brown hair. the hair i just wanted to sit down and run my hands through, soothe all his worries. but how could i do that when he couldn't even soothe mine about him leaving?

"listen, the first time i left, i got a text from alyssa."

"who?"

"my gir- ex girlfriend." he said "why is that relevant?"

"she cheated on me. i thought that maybe she called me to try and fix things. you know, make amends. show me she was different, that she could change. when i got there, she was practically begging on her knees for me to stay. and as much as it hurt, i said no. i left."

"why?" i asked

he clenched his jaw, and it was obvious he was debating on whether or not he should tell me.

i sat down beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. this wasn't about our argument anymore. he needed someone to talk to. a friend.

when he told me the story, it was like all of the puzzle pieces in my mind seemed to click together.

he didn't want to leave. neither times that he left did he want to. but he had to. because there was this nagging voice in his mind telling him that everyone was the same, that they would all hurt him.

that he was nothing.

and i understood. sometimes, i had that voice too. the one that told me i would never be good enough for anybody. that i would never have the future i dreamed of. and when that happened, i would call nicholas, and he would talk to me about it or try to distract me from it.

and that's what noah needed.

not a distraction, because it seemed that was all he had been doing over the past few months was distracting himself from his problems. but he needed to talk to someone about it. someone who wouldn't judge him for his problems.

"i won't judge you, noah. you can tell me." i said softly, all anger from our earlier argument pushed aside in this moment.

"i was- am- in love with another woman. fuck, i don't even know at this point. everything is so complicated." he said.

i ignored the pit of jealousy forming in my stomach and nodded, allowing him to continue.

"alyssa was abusive. physically and mentally. i stayed with her for years, afraid to move on and try to start over. because i hate change. i've always been the kind of person to try and keep things exactly the way they are forever, y'know?" i nodded again. "but then keaton sent me a picture of her kissing another dude at the mall while we were out on tour. and the others had been telling me for years to break up with her, to leave and try and move on. but she was all i had, [y/n]. i felt like i would be reduced to nothing when i left her. and a little bit before i broke up with her, i realized something. i was in love with another woman. the way she moved, the way she spoke, the way she laughed when one of us said something funny. i wanted to be around her at all times. i wanted to be the one to make her laugh, to cheer her up when she was sad, to love and hold her in the night. and i'm trying to show her that, i really am. but every time i get close enough and gain that little slither of confidence i need to show her how much i care, something fucking happens and i screw it all up and we go back to hating each other. and it hurts, because i love her, and all i want is for her to know how much i love her." he said, and i noticed the tears streaming down his face. as much as my heart yearned for that woman to be me, i just wanted him to be happy, even if it was at the cost of losing him again. if he was truly happy, then i was happy.

"well, noah, first of all, i think you should take a break. from everything. music, touring, socials. all of it. give yourself a fresh start, a breather. a moment to figure out what it is that you want for yourself, not what other people want for you. and then after you've done that, show her that you care. that you love her. build up that relationship gradually until you know it's time to tell her how you really feel. but i just want to say this. stop disappearing. stop leaving. it's okay to feel vulnerable. it's okay to have feelings, and to cry. but it's not okay to abandon the people who care about you."

noah finally looked up at me, his eyes filled with unshed tears. "i'm so sorry, [y/n]. please, you have to forgive me."

i wanted to forgive him. i wanted to throw caution to the wind and kiss those beautiful lips and tell him that everything would be okay. but i couldn't.

"i know you are, noah. i know. but just like you, i need time to myself. to figure out who i want to be. this isn't goodbye, this is just see you later. okay?"

he nodded, a single tear slipping down his cheek, and i hugged him.

noah left that night, his heart heavy in his chest as he walked out of my door. it pained me to let him go, but i knew it was for the better. it was what we both needed to be happy. to let go. to move on.

it was nearly a year later before i saw him again. we still talked occasionally, but not very often. just simple messages, checking up on each other.

my career in music took off. i released my first album titled Happier Than Ever, and noah released his titled The Death of Peace of Mind, though his was a bit before mine.

i didn't try to date anyone. didn't try to hook up or have a casual fling or anything of the sorts. my focus was solely on my music and my career. that was all i cared about at the moment, and to be honest, it helped me let go of a lot of things.

i invited noah to my album release party, and he told me that he and the others would try their best to make it there. i had seen the other three in person a couple times, but i never really saw noah. from what i've heard from others, he's changed a lot.

two of noah's friends had made it to the party, bryan, their photographer, and matt, their tour manager. i was talking to one of my old friends when matt came up to me and tapped me on the shoulder, snatching my attention as he whispered something in my ear.

"noah's here."

my breath caught in my throat and i nodded, excusing myself from the conversation. a ton of different memories hit me all at once, but one stood out from all the rest.

i missed him. so fucking much.

and i loved him.

i looked around, trying to spot that familiar head of hair. there weren't very many people; only close friends and family, so i furrowed my brows when i couldn't see him, until i heard his voice.

"hey, princess." he spoke from behind me, and i whipped my body around to face him, my breath halting for a moment.

holy.

fucking.

shit.

to say he was hotter than hell was a bit of an understatement. he'd gotten taller, and definitely stronger. he'd been working out, i could tell. and that beautiful brown hair that i had grown oh so fond of had been chopped short.

"noah." i said, and he laughed softly. "don't start drooling."

i laughed, shaking my head as i pulled him into a short hug. "sorry, you just look really fucking good. you cut your hair." i said, my fingers brushing the ends as if my touch alone would make it grow back.

he nodded. "yeah, decided it was time for a change. they say hair holds memories, and all that held memories i would rather forget." he said, and i nodded in understanding.

it felt like a fresh start. he was different, looks and personality wise, and so was i.

"you look really good, too." he said, giving me a look over as i did a little twirl with a soft laugh.

"thank you. i thought a little makeover was due. especially to fit the theme of the album." i said, and he nodded.

"i haven't heard it yet. wanted to save it for when i got here. like a little surprise, you know?" and i nodded as the first song started playing over the speakers of my house, and him and i went to go outside and talk.

"i'm getting older, i think i'm aging well. i wish someone had told me i'd be doing this by myself."

"so, how's everything going with mystery girl?" i asked, and he furrowed his brows in confusion as it dawned on him.

"oh, her." he rubbed the back of his neck. "uh, we haven't really talked in a while. been taking time for myself, like you said." i smiled softly. "smart man."

"i'm not sentimental but there's something 'bout the way you look tonight. makes me wanna take a picture, make a movie with you that we'd have to hide."

what an understatement, i thought. noah raised his eyebrows at the lyrics, looking at me with a small smirk. i shrugged.

"do you think you're gonna make a move on her soon?" i asked.

"i might tonight, actually after the party."

i hummed, nodding my head and ignoring the jealousy that began to bubble up again. "how?"

"well," he began, looking at me and leaning closer. "i was thinking, i would take her upstairs, and-"

"[y/n]!!" nicholas exclaimed, approaching us.

NOAH'S POV.

i groaned, throwing my head back. just as i was about to make a move, we got interrupted. i watched [y/n] stand up with a smile on her face as she hugged nicholas, the memory of what was just about to happen seeming to disappear from her mind, though it lingered in mine.

if i didn't get to have her tonight, i didn't know if i ever would.

i'm so fucked.

i ran a hand through my hair, watching as nick and [y/n] spoke, before eventually, i couldn't take it anymore. i apologized to nick, taking [y/n]'s hand and dragging her upstairs.

"noah? what-" she began as i pulled her into her bedroom, closing and locking the door before pressing her up against it and pressing my lips to hers.

i could tell she was shocked. she put her hands on my chest, pushing lightly. "noah, what about-"

"you're her." i said

"what?"

"you're her, princess. you're the woman i was in love with. the woman i'm still in love with. fuck, i thought taking time would make these stupid feelings go away but the moment i saw you in this fucking dress i couldn't take it anymore. i need you, [y/n]. will you have me?"

she was quiet for a moment before she nodded slowly. "yes."

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Mitsuhide Akechi Sequel

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

Not a full translation. Not proofread.

Mitsuhide: "Let me hear that story as well."

Sasuke: "!"

(Mitsuhide!)

The moment I saw his face, my chest instinctively swelled, and a smile spread across my face.

Mitsuhide & Sasuke: "............"

(Wait, this isn't the time to be smiling!)

Mai: "Um, Mitsuhide, this person is my friend, and—"

Mitsuhide: "His name is Sasuke, and like you, he came from the future, correct?"

Mai: "Eh?"

Mitsuhide: "Apologies, but I overheard your conversation."

Without the slightest hint of guilt, he sat down beside me.

Mitsuhide: "Wearing such attire and sneaking into the castle must mean you're a member of a faction opposing the Oda forces."

(How could he deduce so much in an instant?!)

Sasuke: "Yes. I apologize for trespassing."

Sasuke: "Allow me to introduce myself properly. My name is Sasuke Sarutobi."

Sasuke: "And you are Lord Mitsuhide Akechi, correct?"

Mitsuhide: "Oh? You know my name, and you're still this calm?"

He narrowed his eyes, and the atmosphere suddenly grew tense.

Sasuke: "I understand I'm in a position where I can offer no excuses, but please allow me to say this one thing."

Sasuke: "Mai is my friend."

(Sasuke...)

Mitsuhide: "From the beginning, I had no intention of killing you."

Sasuke: "Huh?"

Mitsuhide: "Amidst a castle brimming with hostility, you risked your life to infiltrate enemy territory and rush to Mai's side."

Mitsuhide: "It would be foolish of me to use my sword against her beloved friend."

Mitsuhide smiled faintly and drew me closer.

Mitsuhide: "Thank you, Mai's friend."

(He seems to be stressing the word 'friend' a bit too much.)

Sasuke: "Being patronized by the famous Akechi Mitsuhide is one of the top five most miraculous experiences I've had since coming to the Sengoku period."

(Is Sasuke touched?)

Mitsuhide: "You seem like an interesting man, Sasuke."

After murmuring that with a laugh, his eyes sharpened once again.

Mitsuhide: "Mai, I learned about your condition from a letter from Kyubei."

Mitsuhide: "I'm sorry. I must have made you feel anxious."

Mai: "No, I'm just glad you came back."

(He must have returned to Azuchi immediately after reading the letter.)

Being this close made me realize how anxious I was when he was gone.

Mitsuhide: "Sasuke, would you mind continuing where you left off?"

Sasuke: "............"

Mitsuhide: "............"

(The atmosphere suddenly became heavy.)

As I watched them exchange wordless glances, my chest began to stir.

Sasuke: "From the looks of it, you may have reached the same hypothesis as I have."

Mai: "The same hypothesis?"

Mitsuhide: "............"

Mitsuhide fixed Sasuke with a piercing gaze.

Sasuke, accepting it head-on, nodded.

Sasuke: "First, I'd like to confirm the situation."

Mai: "Okay."

Sasuke: "The phenomena happening to you can be summarized in three points:"

Sasuke: "You're becoming invisible to others, your voice isn't reaching them, and the others can't touch you. Is that right?"

Mai: "Yeah, that's correct."

Sasuke: "However, you can still see others, hear their voices, and perceive them normally."

Mai: "Yeah."

(Hearing it laid out like this feels so surreal.)

Sasuke: "I believe these anomalies can be rephrased as follows: Mai, you are gradually losing the ability to interact with people living in this era."

(Losing the ability to interact...?)

Mai: "Does that mean I won't be able to connect with anyone around me anymore?"

Sasuke: "Yeah."

Mitsuhide: "............"

(That's almost like I'm a...)

Mai: "Ghost."

Sasuke: "............."

Mitsuhide: "Continue, Sasuke."

Mitsuhide, maintaining his composure, urged Sasuke to proceed.

Sasuke nodded and handed Mitsuhide the Travel Guide.

Sasuke: "Lord Mitsuhide, are you familiar with this book?"

Mitsuhide: "Mai has told me about it. It's a history book from five hundred years into the future."

Sasuke: "That's right. This book, however, has a peculiar flaw—the section following the Incident at Honnoji is completely blank."

Sasuke: "What happened that night was significantly different from the events recorded five hundred years later."

Sasuke: "The most crucial difference is..."

Mai: "That I saved Lord Nobunaga?"

Sasuke: "Yeah."

Sasuke: "That said, the cause of the historical alteration lies in the time slip itself. Mai, you're not at fault for anything."

Sasuke: "But if there's a significant difference between the original history and the current one, that would be it."

(He's right. Sasuke's explanation makes sense.)

Sasuke: "This might be an unscientific and utterly speculative hypothesis, but perhaps Mai is being rejected by this world as divine punishment for altering history."

(Divine punishment...)

Mitsuhide: "............"

[aliteralactualfactualgremlin]

This.

Before I started my practice (about 2-3 months ago) I was falling farther in farther into depression and losing my will to live.

Then one day I decided to make moon water cause I’d heard of it before and a fortune cookie told me my next full moon would be “enchanting” (yes it’s silly but hey it’s a part of my journey). Next thing you know I’m researching all sorts of stuff about witchcraft, which of course leads to Wicca, which brought me back to the oh so familiar Hellenic pantheon (I grew up on Percy Jackson).

I became more mindful of the gods and suddenly I’m loving life again and have a greater appreciation for all the beauty that exists around me. I would think of Apollo when I sang or wrote poetry and he even helped me get inspiration once I started being able to feel the gods.

Then one day at the park while I was trying to ground myself in nature, I started to feel Gaia. It was like most loving mother I could ask for was smiling down on me.

But even before I could feel the gods, they were already helping to heal my self loathing, body dysmorphia, and depression (I still have some work to do but I’m in a much better mental state now).

That’s what made me realize that this was the path I wanted to go down rather than the christianity I’d clung to for so long. Of course now I have to hide a huge part of myself from nearly everyone around me, but I’ve honestly never been happier.

Thanks for reading to anyone did

Blessed be🫶

Greetings Fellow Travelers!

I think Lady Aphrodite is using my love for writing and helping to send another message to anyone new to deity worship. I was about to make some ramen but then I got another speech in my head so here goes:

I’m sure we’ve all seen the TikTok’s, Instagram and Tumblr posts about how some people say that they can feel the gods, whether it’s when they pray, worship, do devotional acts, or just in life.

And I know that some of you might feel a little jealous, sad, or upset that it hasn’t happened to you.

Well, the truth is, in order to feel that, you have to be intuitive, whether you’re naturally intuitive or you practice it by meditation, deity work, etc.

But

Just because you can’t “feel” the gods, that doesn’t mean they’re not there, or they’re refusing your offerings, praise, or call.

Many times, especially in the beginning, they’ll work in mysterious ways. Super vague, I know but I’ll use Lady Aphrodite as an example.

Before I worked with her, my skin was worse for wear, I had a troubled past with my hair, generally disliked my body, and overall, I didn’t like me.

But the more I worked with her, I noticed subtle changes.

- Hair became shinier and healthier. As well as my love for my hair grew, instead of wanting it to be straight and blown out, I started my curly hair journey and it’s as healthy as it was when I was a little girl, which was 16-17 years ago

- My makeup skills started to improve. The last time I had an improvement was years prior.

- My skin became brighter, and clearer.

And the most important and the most shocking, I began to love myself more, I started to love my body, not just the attractive parts, but appreciating how functional my body was. Feeling blessed for what I had and didn’t have. Feeling beautiful in clothes I used to hate, feeling comfortable in whatever weight or condition I was in. People began to see my aura as brighter and in the best shape I’ve ever been, even when technically nothing had changed.

People around me, start telling me how kind and great I am when I’m feeling down, even if it’s out of character for them.

I met my wonderful boyfriend after 3 dates on Hinge. In the exact way I described him to Her.

And to be honest, I don’t really “feel” her as often as I feel others, but I don’t have to, to know that she’s there, helping me, supporting me, and pushing me to be the best version of myself.

And yes it takes time to build a relationship with the gods, that part is true. But you don’t have to compare yourself to others in their journey.

The gods work in mysterious ways, and it would be foolish to think we know everything about them. They’re too vast for our human brains to fully comprehend them. And I think that’s the beauty in them.

As always, be kind to yourself and others. And if no one’s told you this yet:

Keep it up, you’re doing a good job

Blessed be

[starry-bi-sky]

mmmmmm read a disciple shen yuan/shizun luo binghe fanfic about two days ago where the first chapter was the Immortal Conference arc, and SQQ was the one who had to be pushed into the abyss (he was still the villain) except Luo Binghe was refusing and was like, lowkey losing his mind about SQQ being so close to the edge. SQQ ended up having to be the one to fall in himself because of the system's punishment system. The rest of the fic is leading up to that moment. But like, MMM i've been obsessively thinking about that first chapter for DAYS ever since.

now i've been in svsss for a grand total of *checks watch* a week. but god obsessed with that. I want to write/read a fic where disciple SQQ goes a little nuts down there. Like keep all of the things that make SQQ, SQQ, but just. Throw in a little bit more trauma in there. A little bit of a mental break. Let him go a little nuts as a treat. Just a tad unhinged. I wanna see him go, just a little, "god fuck it, i've tried so hard to change this shitty story's outcome and it feels like everything i've done has been for nothing. I'm going to die in this world no matter what I do, I've been doomed from the start, so might as well die the way I want to." and he just, breaks a little! Under all the stress.

He still retains the traits that makes shen yuan, shen yuan, like his overwhelming kindness. But he's just! yk. A little less patient. Paranoid. Jumpy. Colder. A little more aloof and closed off. A little more Shen Jiu. He's no asshole child abuser, but he was a Number One Hater in his past life and he's leaning into that old habit a little more now.

(On a totally coincidental not-at-all related note, there's not enough SJ-and-SY-are-the-same-people fics out there that i've found. This is totally unrelated...)

The Endless Abyss turns the mind into an over-sharpened blade, and SQQ is both fascinated and perhaps a little excited to explore a place that doesn't have a lot of info on it in the mortal realm, but still terrified out of his mind. And he's no Luo Binghe, he doesn't have the sheer brute strength and power to just bulldoze his way through, so he has to be a lot more sneaky and cunning if he wants to survive.

The fic itself role-swapped LBH and SQQ so that SQQ was the half-demon (which lowkey fucks) and LBH the human, but I'm equally-if-not-more obsessed with the idea that LBH remains the half-heavenly demon and SQQ the human. If only because I keep thinking about SQQ befriending some demons (particularly and specifically a group of succubi) and they grow very attached to this Human Cultivator so through magic plot stuff they create some kind of seal/illusion/talisman that makes SQQ appear as a demon because a human cultivator in the endless abyss may as well be the equivalent of putting a giant neon target on your back.

And iirc Shen Jiu was taught demonic cultivation by that one guy(?? i've only been here a week so im not caught up in ALL of the lore yet) so that could totally happen here.

(On the other end of the realms, poor Shizun Luo Binghe is just. losing his fucking mind over losing his most precious and beloved disciple. About .5 seconds from burning down the peaks himself. somebody sedate him.)

The Endless Abyss sucks and SQQ is having a really terrible time and can feel himself going lowkey mad, but also holy shit look at all this WORLD-BUILDING. look at all this flora and fauna, and oh if he had the equipment for it he'd be writing all of this down. ALL OF IT. He was kinda-sorta-already planning on never leaving the Abyss as some sort of fucked up self-exile and self-preservation thing, but now he might? actually just?? never leave if he can help it, like he lowkey likes it down here.

anyways the next time anyone ever sees SQQ again he's got hair so long its almost touching the ground and he's either in rags and half-feral or he's been completely dolled up by his adoptive succubi sisters and still about three seconds from biting anyone who tries to touch him. (he's also lowkey trying to book it back down to the abyss even if he has desperately missed all of his friends and shizun)

[widevibratobitch]

omw to play emotional support for my mom disguised as ✨fun family bonding time✨ for the rest of the week <3333 there's something so deeply wrong with me uwu teehee

[ohmylcve]

He had questions, many of them. How could he not? Inside Verona's mind, she was sure he would have so many, but she wasn't so sure if he would actually ask. If he would be willing to know the raw truth of Verona's past. The whole pressure of convincing him was getting on her nerves, as if it were an obligation rather than a simple story she could choose not to tell. Of course, she had the choice, but choosing not to tell meant losing him, and that isn’t something she’s willing to do. Verona has never told this story to anyone. She’s had multiple lovers before, who left once they discovered her marriage. She also had ones who knew about her marriage—but those usually came for her flesh, not for her soul. Not a single person knew the entire story, because truth be told: no one mattered this much to her.

Though she was willing to speak, to go on and on about how she’s stuck in a situation she’s not willing to get out of, she hates that she’s compelled to do so. Verona would rather be in a bed, late at night, after a few glasses of white wine, spilling words like she accidentally spills her drink, when she’s not controlling herself. In this very moment, she wishes time travel were possible, just so she could go back and be able to tell this story the way he deserves to hear it.

Ali’s whole body betrays him: the clenched jaw, the closed fists... it’s almost as if he’s about to start a fight, and she knows that this very moment is one for him. He’s fighting himself, he’s fighting against her, but also... he’s fighting with her. And she’s battling to understand what it is that truly hurts him: is it the lie itself? No... once she realized that the words are mere objects to hide the true pain inside. So what was that pain? Scavenging through every word, through every silence, Verona finds herself eager to discover what it is that he’s hiding behind his thick and yet trembling walls.

She does so until he reveals his secret—one he might not have revealed if it wasn’t for this huge misunderstanding between them, just like the story she would’ve never told. After all, this was entirely about vulnerability. Hers, his. About how neither of them could deal with that. But more than that... it was about Ali. About how he never opened up this way to someone; not only did she feel that while in his sheets, but she acknowledges the truth of it by his mere state. "Oh, for fuck’s sake!" The entire control she held until now felt like it was shattered by his fear. She was still defeated, still felt like she needed to convince him, but she was tired. Tired of listening to him blabber on about what he thought, rather than hearing her say it. "If you're too much of a coward to deal with how much we feel, you might as well leave," she fires, guessing her entire face is as red as her hair. "I could’ve lied about so many things. So many! I could’ve faked how I felt, but I don’t take you for a fool. I know you can read people more than I can understand, so I know you’ve read me and you felt the truth in every touch. Mine or yours. You felt it, and if you can't admit that to yourself, then go. Because if you’re here to throw your truths at me, I am not interested in this conversation at all." With a deep breath, she takes a sip of her drink, allowing the anger and irritation to fill her body. What is that pain of hers, then? Clear as day, it popped into her head: he’s knowing me before I can show up to him, just like Viego did.

As the trigger was identified, Verona finishes her glass of wine, forgetting her manners and wiping her mouth with her sleeve. "I could've lied about my name. Have you ever thought about that?" she begins, her gaze meeting his, silently challenging him to keep up. "I’ve had my fair share of affairs, but you were the only one who got my full name right. Verona Quinn." Lowell, she knows. But that's not her name, not the one she claims, not the one she's known for. "My maiden name is my full name." With a slow breath, she looks away, tears rising as she reminds herself that she is the one who built her empire. Not Viego. Her.

"I have no idea how you felt. Not a single glimpse of comprehension," she begins, calmer than before, as if the storm she threw was nothing more than necessary to bring her back to herself. "And I never will. Nothing I can say will change the fact that I’ve hurt you a lot, I’m well aware of it." Confidence blending with her words, as if both were merely colors she was merging to create a new one. "But I do have my reasons for acting the way I did. Nothing will justify the pain you're feeling, so if you're looking for that, again, you might as well just leave." Still able to hold his gaze, she continued. "I am Verona Quinn, for what it matters. I live as Verona Quinn, I EXIST as Verona Quinn." Emphasizing existence, she knows the core of what she's about to say lies there. "I never lied to you because I was dragging you into my mess. For me, it was never a lie, because the life I live is already one." Admitting it to herself out loud hurts more than she expects, and afraid she might stop in the middle of it, she continues, faster than before, but with as much intention. "Forget social conventions for a while, and think of our last walk through the streets of Venice, Ali. I can imagine how confusing that might be for you, that we've felt that much and yet I am married. I can assure you, in this marriage, there's no love. Nothing like we have, not even close." Her gaze turned into a searching one, as if she was trying to find the small piece that held both of them together inside of him. Her hands, on top of his tightened ones, slowly moved to open them, to grab his hands while she kept talking. "I gave you my all. I never gave you lies, no, not in my perspective. What I did was open up my chest, to grab my heart, and put it inside your hands. These very ones." She says it softer, a childish smile quickly making its appearance and then leaving as she recalls the information that once left his lips: I've killed for less than what you did to me. Then, lifting her eyes to meet his gaze, she adds, feeling her throat close in anxiety for his answer to what she's about to ask. "Will you crush it, or will you keep it?"

Ali’s thoughts swirled in a tempest of contradiction. He wasn’t sure which stung more—the raw truth of Verona’s words or the realization that he had come here, into her world, unarmed with anything but his own vulnerabilities. Vulnerabilities he despised. Vulnerabilities that, for the first time in years, he couldn’t hide from himself. Her gaze, unwavering and penetrating, stripped him bare in ways no interrogation or battlefield had ever managed. It was excruciating. It was intoxicating. For so long, Ali had conditioned himself to avoid moments like these. To bypass the chaos of human emotion and live within the neat, controlled lines of precision and purpose. Chaos belonged out there—on the job, in the face of danger, where his body and mind could cut through it like a scalpel. Not here. Not in the eyes of someone who made him feel exposed, seen, and, worst of all, uncertain. He hated uncertainty. And yet, as Verona questioned him—her voice steady but her breathing betraying her—he didn’t feel in control anymore. His carefully constructed walls, reinforced by years of discipline and detachment, buckled under the weight of her honesty. The vulnerability in her words was almost unbearable. He wasn’t sure if it was anger, regret, or something far messier that churned in his chest, but it clawed at him like a caged animal. What did he want to know? Did he even know? Her question hung in the air like smoke, suffocating him as much as it compelled him to answer. He clenched his jaw, fighting the instinct to retreat, to end the conversation with an abrupt exit and return to the comfort of isolation. But he stayed. For reasons he didn’t fully understand, he stayed.

“Start with why,” he said, his voice steady but lacking its usual coldness. It almost felt foreign to hear it. His own words sounded sharper than he intended, but Ali didn’t soften them. He couldn’t. Not when his mind was flooded with fragments of memories—brief moments of trust, of closeness, that now felt tainted by betrayal and lies. Not when he wasn’t sure if he wanted to forgive her or punish her for the way she made him feel. For the way she still made him feel. He hated the way his heart raced as she took a step closer. Hated the way he noticed every detail—the slight quiver in her lips, the tension in her shoulders, the way her eyes searched his, not for forgiveness but for understanding. Hated how much he wanted to give it to her, even when he wasn’t sure she deserved it. The truth, he realized, was that he wasn’t here for closure. He wasn’t here for answers. He was here because, against all reason, he couldn’t stay away. And that terrified him more than anything. Ali’s hands tightened into fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as he struggled to steady himself. The air between them felt thick, charged with all the words left unsaid, all the truths she had buried and he had clawed at only to uncover too late. He stared at her now, his mind a battlefield of emotions he couldn’t afford to indulge: anger, betrayal, longing. Why had she lied? Why had she pulled him into her orbit, knowing all along she had another life—a life she’d hidden while weaving herself so deeply into his? Ali’s voice, when it came, was low and deliberate. Every word felt like a sharp-edged weapon, carefully aimed but impossible to dull.

“Do you have any idea what it felt like,” he began, his tone measured but barely masking the storm beneath, “to find out the way I did? To look into the life you kept hidden and realize I wasn’t just a part of it—I was your secret?” His gaze was fixed on hers, unrelenting. Her eyes, so often a mystery, were now a mirror, reflecting the weight of his words back at him. But Ali couldn’t stop. He’d held this inside for too long, and the dam was cracking. “You say you weren’t playing with me,” he continued, his voice hardening, “but what else would you call it? You didn’t just lie, Verona. You let me believe there was nothing else. No one else. And I—” He cut himself off, the words catching in his throat. He didn’t want to admit what he had given her, what he had felt for her, not when it still ached like an open wound. His breath hitched as he forced himself to calm down, to rein in the chaos she had unleashed inside him. Ali prided himself on control, on precision. But she had dismantled that so easily, with her truths and half-truths, with the world she’d built for herself while leaving him in the dark. “I’ve killed for less than what you did to me,” he said softly, his voice a dangerous whisper. “Do you know that?” The cat was official out of the bag, and Ali didn't even realize he just let out a big secret. That's how crazy he was about her. That's how mad she made him. “And still,” he said, softer now, the anger bleeding into something rawer, something vulnerable, “I came here. I needed to hear it from you. Why you lied. Why you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth.” He paused, his gaze locking onto hers again, searching for something—remorse, regret, an answer. Anything to explain why she had taken what he’d offered her and broken it so completely. “Did any of it mean anything to you? Or was I just the escape you needed until you went back to your real life?”

[dawei-s]

Close to my grandma's age when she had my dad literally wtf

[kelin-is-writing]

it's sunday, my fucking ankles and knees hurts like bitches AND i still gotta go to work until 12pm 🙂

[ccborrega]

OP didn't even mention the book sequel which I will not spoil much except to mention even decades couldn't break the bond between the Unicorn and the Wizard and Molly Grue. Tears ensued.

Following the author of The Last Unicorn on Facebook is the only thing that makes being on that site worthwhile.

(source)

[beemovieerotica]

I know people on tumblr looove stories of underwater cave diving, but I haven't seen anyone talk about nitrogen narcosis aka "raptures of the deep"

basically when you want to get your advanced scuba certification (allowing you to go more than 60 feet deep) you have to undergo a very specific test: your instructor takes you down past the 60+ foot threshold, and she brings a little underwater white board with her.

she writes a very basic math problem on that board. 6 + 15. she shows it to you, and you have to solve it.

if you can solve it, you're good. that is the hardest part of the test.

because here's what happens: there is a subset of people, and we have no real idea why this happens only to them, who lose their minds at depth. they're not dying, they're not running out of oxygen, they just completely lose their sense of identity when deep in the sea.

a woman on a dive my instructor led once vanished during the course of the excursion. they were diving near this dropoff point, beyond which the depth exceeded 60 feet and he'd told them not to go down that way. the instructor made his way over to look for her and found a guy sitting at the edge of the dropoff (an underwater cliff situation) just staring down into the dark. the guy is okay, but he's at the threshold, spacing out, and mentally difficult to reach. they try to communicate, and finally the guy just points down into the dark, knowing he can't go down there, but he saw the woman go.

instructor is deep water certified and he goes down. he shines his light into the dark, down onto the seafloor which is at 90 feet below the surface. he sees the woman, her arms locked to her sides, moving like a fish, swimming furiously in circles in the pitch black.

she is hard to catch but he stops her and checks her remaining oxygen: she is almost out, on account of swimming a marathon for absolutely no reason. he is able to drag her back up, get her to a stable depth to decompress, and bring her to the surface safely.

when their masks are off and he finally asks her what happened, and why was she swimming like that, she says she fully, 100% believed she was a mermaid, had always been a mermaid, and something was hunting her in the dark 👍